Whenever Has it Been Easy?
by Angeleia Kenobi
Summary: Like Artie always says, "Nothing is as it seems."
1. From Humble Beginnings

Her feet pounded against the pavement, the shouts of the warehouse agents only a few turns behind her. They'd only just lost sight of her and she didn't have much longer before they would see her again. Stopping for a quick chance to catch her breath, she glanced around before tearing down a side alley. She could hear their footsteps as they made their way closer to her.

The tall one, a man with dark hair and chiseled features, stopped at the corner she had and glanced around, his eyes just scanning over her hiding place. "I don't see her Artie." The shorter man with him was huffing from his exertion, "Don't let her fool you. She's here. She couldn't have gotten to far away from us." Artie started moving down the alley, closer to her. "Search around. She has to be here somewhere." The tall man grumbled something, then began walking down the opposite side from Artie, his fingers just brushing against the brick. "Tell me again what's so dangerous about this artifact again?" Artie sighed, stopped walking and turned to glare at his companion, "Because Pete. It is the reason for every..." he paused, his nose twitching slightly.

"What is it Artie?" Pete hissed. Artie shook his head, then reached out towards the nearby wall, swearing roundly when his fingers scraped against the rough brickwork. "I could have sworn she was there!" he groused, and the two continued forward on their search. They were only a few steps down the alley when some trash cans crashed onto the ground behind them, making them both jump in surprise. There she was, the trash can had tripped her up and she was on her knees, staring at them with wide frightened eyes. It took the three of them another few seconds before each erupted into a flurry of movement. She was clamoring to her feet while Artie reached for the Tesla tucked in his waistband and Pete... Pete called out to her.

"Wait... We don't want to hurt you." She did, but not without a quick glance back down the alley. The street was only a few yards away. If she could just get them distracted... Pete raised his palms, placating, "I promise we aren't here to hurt you." She snorted, much like a skittish horse would, carefully taking a few steps backwards, closer to the street entrance. Pete stopped moving, "Please. We just need the artifact, then you can go." Her brow wrinkled and for the first time in the three days they'd been hunting her Pete heard her speak.

"What artifact?" Pete was confused, "The thing! Whatever it is that you have that's been doing all this." He waved his arms around them, encompassing the entire city. She followed the movement, then shook her head. "I'm sorry, but I can't do that." Now Pete was getting angry, "Why not!" Before she could answer there came a flash of bright lightening from beyond Pete, arcing across the distance between them and connecting with her chest. The force of the blast knocked her off her feet and skid backwards a few feet before stopping. Pete's jaw went slack as he watched her, then spun on his heel to glare aghast at Artie.

"Artie! What the hell, man!" Artie's jaw clenched then released as he walked closer to the now unconscious woman. "Artie! We had it wrong! She didn't know what we were talking about, clearly she doesn't have the artifact." Artie snorted, then turned to look at Pete square.

"That's because she _**IS**_ the artifact."


	2. Arrival at the Warehouse

She groaned and shook her head, it had been many years since she had been hit with a Tesla. She half grinned and opened her eyes, _'At least it beats being hit by sticks... or rocks... hell, any weaponry.'_ Shivering slightly, she wrapped her arms around herself and looked out the car window, watching the dead landscape fly by. The driver shifted in the seat in front of her and glared at her through the rear-view mirror. "Good, you're awake." She groaned again and set her head back against the headrest. "Morning to you too, fun size." Artie growled and pumped the breaks, "I told you to never call me that." She snorted and looked back out the window. "South Dakota." she sighed, "Didn't think I'd see this place again so soon." Artie chuckled lightly, "I certainly hate to disappoint you."

The other agent, Pete if she remembered right, glanced at Artie and then turned enough to get a better look at her. She wasn't all that old – or at least, she didn't look as old as Artie claimed she was – with thick blonde hair that was currently up in a ponytail. Her eyes were a rich cobalt blue, that seemed to be lit with some other source than life, and her complexion smooth. Her lips were curled up slightly at the corners as she watched the view, and her build more that of a model with long legs and toned arms. Under normal circumstances he would have thought her beautiful, but ever since Kelly had left, he really hadn't put much thought into other women. Even with Myka gone... He shook his head and turned forward again, his gut twitching.

Artie glanced at him, then turned down the dirt trail that led to the warehouse, "Let me guess. You're getting a vibe." Pete nodded, "Yeah...There's something about her." Artie snorted, but Pete just ignored him, "I can't quite put my finger on it, but she's..." Artie parked the car and cut the engine, "She's an artifact." There came an odd sound from the back seat making both men jump slightly and look back at her. She glared at Artie, "Would you stop calling me that? I'm not some _thing_ that you can bag, tag and set on a shelf in your precious warehouse and ignore!" Artie stopped the car and turned to look at her. "Then what am I supposed to call you? Huh? Your... special abilities make it impossible for you to live among other people, you _**KNOW**_ that the only place where you can have any chance at a normal life is in the Warehouse!"

She frowned and turned to face the window, Pete was sure that if she hadn't been hand cuffed she would have folded her arms crossly. Instead she just sat very still for a moment, then let out a heavy sigh. "I'm not a thing, Artie. As much as you try to deny it, or how ever often you tell yourself I'm not, I am a human being. A living breathing thing that needs access to the outside world. I can't do that locked up inside that warehouse, and I refuse to let you lock me up again!" Artie snarled, in classic Artie fashion, "It's because of you that four agents lost their lives!" Pete's eyes widened, and she flinched, staring at the floormats. "Is that true?" Pete asked, but Artie ignored him, just continued to glare at the woman. Pete watched her jaw clench and she raised her head, her eyes shimmering slightly as if she was fighting tears. "Agents Holden and Patrick weren't directly my fault. I told them not to interfere, but because they were agents of this damnable warehouse, they ran in! Anyone who knows their history should have known that the zepplin was dangerous!"

Pete was confused, but kept his mouth shut as Artie continued to argue with the woman "And what about Hartly and Jones?" Her brow knit together as she grew angry, "They were not my fault. I wasn't anywhere near them when they died." Artie huffed, "But you knew! You knew what Sylvia Plath's You were the one who sent the warehouse the alert about it and you knew that agents would be sent after it!" She snarled right back at him, "I had no control over that. How was I supposed to know they wouldn't just throw a tarp over it and bring it home?" Pete finally interrupted them, "Okay, I think it's time we went inside now." Both of the others stared at him in surprise, then Artie nodded. "Yes... but don't take those handcuffs off from her. Not until we get inside anyway."

Pete was out first, going to the woman's door and helping her get to her feet. "Thank you." she murmured, then let them lead her inside. _'Once again, into the warehouse. Getting out won't be as easy as last time.'_


	3. And So It Begins

_The metal of the door ground against the stone of the frame, the scratching noise sending chills up her spine to nestle at the back of her skull. The short hairs on her arms and neck all standing up at once gave her goosebumps, and didn't help to ease her sense of dread. They were coming for her, she knew it. She knew that step, the echoes it made off the surrounding stone walls and floor. The way their armor scraped against itself, the soft muffle of leather beneath the steel and chain. She could see them, all of them, standing proud in the daylight, the sun's rays glinting of the fresh shine of their shields and the points of their spears. She'd been outnumbered then, and she was even more helpless now. _

_ Life in a dungeon cell wasn't pleasant for someone healthy and they'd thrown her in here without even wrapping the numerous scrapes and burns she'd earned. Over the years her once fine clothes had been shredded, at first by herself to stave off the infections she knew would come, then to hold the broken bones. And then the soldiers had grown lonely, and her clothes had all but disappeared. Infection had set in and would claim at least one or two of her limbs, she knew it. There wasn't a way to avoid it. She would die here... she would die here in Acre and then she could only pray that God would personally deliver Saladin's soldiers to the devil's lair._

_ She could hear the jingle of the key ring, the grinding of the gears as the lock unlatched and the wooden door swung inward, letting in the light of the torches that the soldiers held. She blinked rapidly in the sudden light, bringing a hand feebly up to cover her eyes. "__Par Dieu! C'est une femme!__"__ she heard one of them whisper. It was a language she knew, but hadn't heard in a long time; her brother's tutors had spoken it. Carefully she lowered her hand and squinted at her rescuers. There were four of them, but the one nearest the door seemed to be the leader, clad in a long white tunic with a bright red cross painted across his torso. She shivered, trying to remember how to form the words. Her mouth opened and she tried to speak but she'd been in here so long... so very long. The man in white entered the cell and laying down his sword beside her, knelt to remove his helm. His hair was thick and long, tied back at the nape of his neck with a leather thong. His face was streaked with sweat and soot, she could smell the burning of wood and flesh on him, but his eyes... His eyes caught her attention. Deep pools of brown, a warm brown that could shield her from the hatred of the world. __"__Questus sum vobis hinc, domina mi. Te capiam t castris sanatoressitque cicatricibus tendunt. Vides?__" She nodded,__ 'any__ devout person would understand latin!', __and he pulled the cloak from around his shoulders, wrapping it tightly around her frail frame. She groaned as he lifted her into his arms, biting her lip to keep from crying out._

_ "Elle semble être en mauvais état." said the first as the templar carried her down the corridor. He nodded and she rested her head against his shoulder. "Vous pensez que les guérisseurs peuvent faire quelque chose?" _

_ "Videbimus."_

_ The next thing she remembered, she was lying on a cot, piled high with linens and furs. Her right arm was bound tightly in fresh bandages and everything ached. Moaning slightly, she rolled her head to the side. "Wh.." The man who had saved her was seated on a stool nearby, apparently reading something. He glanced up when he heard her voice, and set the scroll aside. __"__Sed nunc iuvat videre te vigilat.__"__She blinked at him, frowning slightly. He smiled gently, then leaned forward on his knees, whispering in that low tone that only men can use. "My name is Peter. Lord Peter, Knight of the Order of the Temple. We have just liberated the castle, you are free. Do you understand?" She nodded and he smiled, that slightly goofy kind of smile that made grown men look like small boys. "Can you speak?"_

_ "A... Aqua." she managed to stammer and he reached back for a water skin. After a few gulps, he took the skin away and asked again, "Now, might I have your name?"_

* * *

"No freakin' way!" Claudia stared at the numbers in front of her; the page was set up much like one she would have normally found on Wikipedia, with the artifacts main information listed along the right side. "What is it?" Claudia spun to see Mrs. Fredric, impeccably dressed as always, standing in the middle of Artie's office. "Mrs. Fredric! Um... Artie isn't here." Mrs Fredric raised an eyebrow, "I know. He should be back soon, however, and I thought I would wait for him." Claudia nodded slowly as Mrs Fredric sat down in one of the few chairs around the room, crossed her legs and folded her hands into her lap. Swallowing, Claudia nodded again and went back to the computer. "Well now. Let's see if we can't get a picture of this thing." a few more keystrokes and she was staring, open mouthed at a scan of a painting. "Wait. That can't be right. Artifacts have never been..." She went back and restarted her search but the same painting came up every time. "This is ridiculous."

"To be perfectly frank, it doesn't do her justice." Claudia just kept staring, "She's beautiful."

Mrs. Fredric smiled, or what could be called a smile for her, "That was painted by a close family friend when she was seventeen. She' hasn't changed much since then, but this is such a crude likeness." She leaned forward and hit a few more keys, and a newer photograph came on screen. "That's more accurate." Claudia's eyebrows shot upwards, "Wow. You were right... So, what's her name?" The door to the office swung open with it's usual compressed air sound and both of them turned to see Artie step inside, followed by the woman in handcuffs and Pete holding her arm to help her over the step.

"Maerlyn." the woman;s head snapped up at the sound of Mrs. Fredric's voice, "Lady Maerlyn MacGregor, heiress to the clan MacGregor lairdship."


	4. The Burden of Memory

Maerlyn smirked, "So it's Irene Fredric now? I had heard you had married. Tell me, how is your husband doing?" Mrs Fredric stepped closer to her, her face as blank as ever with only a hint of emotion in her eyes. "I do think you made an excellent choice with him. He was a proud one, to be certain, but knew when to be, oh what is the word I search for..." Maerlyn continued, a mischievous sparkle in her eyes, "Manipulated." Mrs Fredric's jaw clenched then, and her shoulders straightened. "You do know I blame you for his loss." Maerlyn snorted, "Apparently I get blamed for everything around here. As I told Artie; it is in no way my fault that your husband wasn't smart enough to **not **drive the damned truck!" She blew at a lock of hair, loosed from her ponytail, "And if you recall, I almost lost my own life trying to save his!" Mrs Fredric reached out a hand and cupped Maerlyn's chin, glaring into the frozen pools of blue. After a tense moment, Maerlyn relented, her features softening, "I haven't been called Lady MacGregor in a long time... a very long time." Mrs Fredric nodded, releasing Maerlyn's chin. "I know."

The door opened behind them again, and Leena stepped inside. "Oh! I'm sorry, I just..." she glanced around the room, stopping when she saw Maerlyn, "Lady Maerlyn!" She nodded her head slightly, "I hadn't heard that you would be back..." she started before Mrs Fredric glanced at her, "Leena, I would like you to prepare a room at the bed and breakfast for our guest. She will be staying with us for a while." Leena nodded then turned to leave, pausing momentarily when she faced Maerlyn. "Good day, my lady." she whispered, curtsying slightly then leaving the room. Artie sputtered, "What! You're just going to let her live at Leena's? She's an artifact! She belongs IN the warehouse." Mrs Fredric stopped moving and turned back to Artie, "And she is a human being. Besides, I thought you could handle her. If she gets out of hand," Mrs Fredric's eyes swept over Maerlyn, "You can always bronze her." Maerlyn sneered, "Thanks for the warning, Irene. I'll be sure to follow it." Mrs Fredric raised an eyebrow, then moved to leave herself, "Very well then." Artie huffed then walked out onto the warehouse balcony, keeping his back to the pair in his office.

Pete took a deep breath, then removed Maerlyn's handcuffs. "I guess you won't be needing those anymore." She glanced at him, then went back to staring at Artie. "No... I suppose I won't." She rubbed her wrists absently, "I must say, considering some of the other chains I have had to wear in my lifetime, those were some of the more comfortable." Pete smirked, then wrinkled his brow. "In your lifetime?" Maerlyn smiled, then nodded, "Yes... what?" Pete's look deepened, "Just how many times have you been in jail?" It was her turn to be confused, "You really do not know anything about me do you?"

Pete opened his mouth as though to protest, then shook his head, "No. Artie doesn't exactly tell me everything... about most things. A lot of stuff, yeah, he does, but we didn't even really know if it was you or another artifact that was causing all the..." he waved his hands around his head as though he was trying to describe wind to a deaf person, "_stuff_ going on back in New York." She raised and eyebrow and a corner of her mouth quirked. "Ah, I see. You're the agent that likes to touch eveything." Pete drew in his chin and looked hurt, "What? I do not touch everything!" She smirked and crossed her arms, waiting for the confession she knew would follow just a forced reaction. Pete raised his head and tilted his head from side to side, "Alright, maybe." he raised a finger at her, "Just maybe, I tend to get a little up close and personal with the artifacts," he shrugged and folded his arms, "But that's just how I roll."

Maerlyn rolled her eyes and shook her head, "Uh-huh. Sure." She looked around the small office, "Well, I've seen about as much of this place as I want to for today. Care to remind me were Leena's is?" Pete jumped slightly, "Huh? Oh, yeah sure." As he opened the door he couldn't help but ask, "So... how long have you known Artie?"

* * *

_She stood tall against the setting sun, her long hair braided against her head and falling to the small of her back. Before her stretched the great port city of Acre, its guard towers casting long __shadows in the sunlight. "Tis a beautiful sight, Lady MacGregor." said the man on her left. Fergus was a strong man, built in the classical sense that made woman swoon and men wish to fight him to prove thei__r own worth. "Aye," she replied, her eyes scanning the fast approaching horizon. Her brother was somewhere in that city. "Hang on, __bràthair__. I swear I'll find you." Her brother hadn't left the clan under the best of circumstances, having huffed and puffed __then stormed out of the keep as though he were king of all Christendom. "I'm going to join the Knights __Templar, d__eirfiúr bheag__.__ I'm__ going to help reclaim the Holy Land."_

_"You're the brother of the laird! You can be anything you want to, Christian!" she'd pleaded with him, following him from the keep out into the main yard where the youngest of the pages kept at the MacGregor stronghold were readying his war horse. The beast was pawing at the earth, sending up small clouds of Highland dust as he tossed his head. Without missing his stride, Christian had thrown himself into his saddle and looked down at her. "Do not worry, sister. I shall go to claim my way, my honor." He leaned down so that only she could hear his voice, "And when I return, I shall overthrow our tyrant of a cousin, and you can claim your rightful title as the Lady of the MacGregors." Her brow wrinkled, "And you, my brother?What of you?" Christian had simply smiled, then clucked his horse forward. As he neared the gates he'd turned his horse back and waved to her, "I shall see you in a year, my sister. In a year!" The year had passed, and not so much as a letter came from Christian. She had told herself not to worry, not yet anyway. But still she couldn't stop herself from walking to the stronghold gate every day, standing on the battlements until she could no longer see the main road._

_"Do you think the Lord Christian is still alive, my lady?" She turned to her clansman, then looked back at the fast approaching city. "If he isn't, Fergus of the MacGregors, then God will be the only being that has mercy on his murderer. Because I will not."_


	5. When Life and Legend Collide

_Maerlyn bit her lower lip and pulled on her cloaks hood. It had been made large to hide her longer hair and feminine features. Fergus, clad in his armor and armed with his claymore, glared at the crowds around them. They were in a main market square of Acre, the hustle around them making him nervous. "My lady, we should just ask someone." _

_ Maerlyn sighed, and looked up at him. "Okay, you be the one to walk up to someone and ask them where we can find the Templar headquarters. I'm sure they'll understand your speech." _

_ Fergus snarled and pulled her into an alley between two vendor stalls, "Lady Maerlyn, that is _not_ funny." _

_ She grinned and winked, "I thought it was." _

_ Fergus rolled his eyes and replaced his helm, "Come on, let us find Lord Christian." He led the way through the thoroughfare, the haggling merchants and fishwives hastening to get out of the great highlanders way. Maerlyn ducked her head and followed him, all the while chuckling at her own humor. It had been a long time since she'd been able to laugh, especially at – or even with – Fergus. It took them another three hours to fight their way through the crowds, only to end up again on the docks where they'd started. Fergus let out a growl and threw up his hands. "This is madness! There's no way we can find the Lord Christian in this mess of a city." _

_ Maerlyn just giggled and looked around the plaza. It couldn't be that difficult, could it? Across the way from them stood a group of men, fearsome looking men with sword, and bows and armor. Horses knickered nearby with squires and stable boys running around as though the world would end if they didn't move even a bit slower. She glanced at Fergus, who was still fuming about searching for the impossible, then moved towards them. __"Ignosce, sed sperabat possitis adjuvet. En ego exspectans Templarii milites ..." _

_ The group turned to her, each stopping their conversation and the one nearest her started laughing, "Go home, __bheag amháin__. Acre is no place for a young girl." He turned his back on her and jerked his thumb back at her as he said, "D__úr leanbh nach féidir, a bheith níos mó ná deich mbliana agus ceithre!__" _

_ Her eyebrows shot into her hairline and she threw back her hood, revealing her blonde hair and fair features. In doing so she opened the front of her cloak and showed the fine cut of her clothes and the rich textures of the fabrics. "__Is é mo ainm Lady Maerlyn nach MacGregor, leanbh dúr! Tháinig mé sa tóir ar modheartháir, a Thiarna MacGregor Críostaí de mhuintir na hAlban. Tháinig sé anseo aroilithreacht a bheith ar an Ridirí an Ordú, agus ní bheidh mé chuid eile go dtí gobhfaighidh mé air.__" _

_ The man who had spoken fell to his knees in surprise, "My lady! Please forgive me, I had no idea." _

_ She snarled, "Of that I have no doubt. Now, about my original question, where may I find the Templars?" The man, still cowering gave her the desired d__irections and she pulled her cloak back about herself. Once certain of her way she nodded to the group, then bent to whisper in his ear, "And so that you do not make such mistakes in the future, I am ten and seven." _

_ She walked back to Fergus quickly, who was about to tear the plaza apart in search of his charge. "My lady, I beg you, please do not disappear again. This town is not safe for one such as you." _

_ She raised an eyebrow at him, "Oh? And where would I be safe, Edinburgh?"_

_ Fergus drew a heavy breath, then shook his head. "No, Dún Éideann most certainly wouldn't work. Lunnainn wouldn't be much better, either. Either way, did you find the camp?" _

_ She smiled, "Why of course I did! Problem is it's on the other side of the city, we might as well find a room for the night." Nodding, Fergus led them through the throngs of arriving pilgrims, soldiers and merchants, all speaking their own language and the noise creating a buzz over which even the seagull's caws couldn't be heard._

_ As night fell through city, Fergus was bartering for their stay at an already over crowded in when she saw the riders. Three of them, all sitting proud on their mounts, with bright spears in hand and helms removed to show harsh frowns cutting across dark features. Forcing herself to stay calm, she stepped into the inn and grabbed Fergus' arm. The man stopped talking and turned to her, "Yes, my lady?" Stretching to her tiptoes, she whispered of their impending 'friends' and the color drained from his face, "Good sir," she said to the innkeeper, "I beg your forgiveness, but we must be going now." The innkeeper looked confused and nodded slowly, as they made their way out into the street. The moon was just beginning to rise as they stumbled into the street._

_ "There they are!" came a shout from the end of the road and the two turned to see the three soldiers lined up, waiting for them. _

_ "Fergus! Quick, down this way!" Maerlyn grabbed the warriors arm and practically dragged him down a hidden alley, and the two of them spilled into another road._

_ "After them!" Fergus was first to his feet, and drew his sword, the highly polished metal gleaming in the moonlight. "GO!" He hissed at her, pointing to another alley, "Get out of here, I'll hold them off." She shook her head, "No, Fergus. Come with me!" The man sighed and gripped her chin, forcing her to look at him, "I swore that I would protect you, and this is the best way for me to do so. Now go!" He shoved her back and she tripped, falling into a basket left out by a merchant. "Fergus!" her voice sounded so pathetic, but he ignored her, his blade coming again into sight and she was ignored. Fighting tears, she struggled to her feet and raced down the dark streets. She could just hear the clangs of metal as the fight began._

*"Pardon, but I was hoping that you might be able to help me. You see, I am looking for the Templar knights..."

*Stupid baby, cannot exceed ten years and four!

*My name is Lady Maerlyn MacGregor, not stupid child! I came in search of my brother, Lord Christian of the MacGregor clan of Scotland. He came here on pilgrimage to join the Knights of the Order, and I will not rest until I find him.

*London

*Scotland


	6. In the Dark of the Night

It was midnight when Pete came downstairs. The lights in the house were set to low and he had to trace his hand along the wall to find his way to the kitchen. Leena had said something about cookies earlier and he intended to raid the fridge until his craving was satisfied. He glanced through the doorway which led to the sitting room, then stopped moving. The french doors that opened to the porch were open, letting in the soft moonlight and fainter light of the stars, and silhouetted against it was Maerlyn, her face upturned and he could just hear her voice as she murmured something in a strange language. He coughed and she stopped, turning in his direction before whispering, "Who's there?" He stepped forward, closer, and the corners of her mouth twitched slightly. "Pete. I thought I heard your step."

He gave a little half smirk, then motioned to her, "What was that you were saying?" She took a moment to think, almost surprised that he would ask, "I was singing a song, in a different language." He grabbed a chair beside her and turned it around so that he was leaning forward against its back and stared up at her expectantly, "What language?" She looked at her hands, then back at him, "Gaelic, although, it is hard to hear these days." She gave herself a half smile and looked at her hands again, "I grew up listening to it, and now I have to go a far distance to even catch a hint of the 'old language'." He raised his eyebrows, "Really? Then how many languages can you speak?" She smiled and sat down on a chair near him, "That, Pete, is a question that has a very complicated answer." His brow wrinkled, "How so?" She smiled and looked back outside, "As the times change so does the language of the people. There once was a time when Latin ruled the world, but now.." she shrugged, "Now it is considered a dead language." He nodded, then set his chin on the back of the chair, watching her. "So what were you saying?"

Maerlyn took a slow, deep breath and watched him carefully, then sighed, "You're not going to let this drop are you?" he shook his head and waited. Shaking her head, she smirked and opened her mouth, "All right, here goes:

_ Fuaim an nglór buabhaill anois – spraoi é ach le haghaidh dom  
Mar an t-athrú séasúir - conas a úsáidtear cuimhin liom a bheith  
Anois, ní féidir liom dul ar – ní féidir liom a thosú fiú  
Tá mé rud ar bith fágtha – ach chroí folamh  
Tá mé ina shaighdiúir – wounded sin ní mór dom a thabhairt suas an troid  
Níl aon rud níos mó le haghaidh dom - luaidhe me away...  
Nó saoire suite dom a chur anseo  
Fuaim an nglór buabhaill anois – insint dóibh Is cuma liom  
Ní Tá bóthar a fhios agam - mar thoradh air in áit ar bith  
Gan solas eagla orm go mbeidh mé stumble sa dorchadas  
Leag ceart síos - ní cinneadh dul ar  
Ansin, as ar ard - áit éigin I gcéin  
Níl cead cainte go bhfuil gá, "Cuimhnigh cé tú féin"  
Má chailleann tú féin – do mhisneach beidh a leanúint go luath  
Mar sin, anocht bheith láidir - cuimhnigh ar a bhfuil tú  
Yeah bhfuil tú ina shaighdiúir anois - ag troid I cath  
Chun a bheith saor arís eile - yeah, go fiú ag troid le go"_

Pete stared at her for a moment longer and then smiled, "That... that was beautiful." She smiled and went back to the door. "I'm glad you think so."

He watched her for a moment before asking, "So... How did you come to meet Artie?" She stiffened, and turned back to look at him slowly. "Pete, there is something I need to make very clear to you right now. There are some things that should remain in the past, untouched." He was taken aback, the fire in her eyes had returned as well as her biting tone. "I'm sorry, I didn't know it was such a touchy subject." Her shoulders sagged slightly, "It really isn't, Pete... but it's better if you don't know. Knowledge tends to complicate things, especially in a relationship."

Pete sighed, "I hear ya. My girlfriend, Kelly... she freaked after I told her where I worked and what I did. I haven't seen her in months."

Maerlyn watched him for a time, then sat back down, closer this time. "I'm sorry to hear that. It sounds as though she meant a lot to you."

Pete nodded, "More than any other girl I've ever known... aside from my sister of course." He sighed, "I keep playing that day over and over in my head, but there's nothing I would change about it."

Maerlyn's mouth twitched again, and her eyes got this really far off look as she stared out into the night. "I know the feeling. I once lost someone important to me too." She stood again, wrapped her arms around her torso and leaned against the door jam. "You're lucky, you know. At least you know that Kelly is alive somewhere, that she left you of her own volition. You know your place in the world, and you can retrace your steps, from any given point and say that it was your own choices that brought you to where you are today..."

Pete looked up at her, his voice very quiet. "You sound as though you've had now choices at all. What happened?" Maerlyn looked up at the stars, as though she wished they could bring back her lost life, then sighed.

*Sound the Bugle – Bryan Adams


	7. Running up the Hill

_Running...running, always running. First it had been fun, chasing her mother in the gardens, collecting flowers, Christian as they played in the main yard with their half brother Liam. But the fun ended when Mother had died, then Liam took sick and their cousin Ewan took over the clan. Yes, ever since her mother's death she'd done nothing but run, from her family, her friends... from love. As she tore down the streets of Acre, away from her cousins bounty hunters, she couldn't stop the memorys from surfacing._

_ M__háthair__ had been so beautiful,__ her hair as fair as her own with bright green eyes that seemed to always be laughing. Then she had died... She'd never understood why or the how, all she knew was that one day her parents had been there and the next... gone. Merewen MacGregor had married into the clan, her step-son, Liam, had already been set to claim the lairdship when his father died. But Ewan had thrown a wrench in all that. Ewan MacKlarian was Liam's cousin through his mother, and apparently had been bred to hate. Ewan had been envious of the life that Liam had, the family. Maerlyn was convinced that he had been behind Liam's illness, and because of that, he had been the reason for Christian leaving the clan, for Liam's death later that same year and certainly behind her own betrothal to an Englishman._

_ She pressed herself into a dark corner of an alley, holding her breath and waiting for a horse to pass. She had only a few more streets to go before she would be at the Templars front gate... but she wasn't about to lead these men there. Backtracking quickly, she found the road that the soldier had said would lead her to the church and raced into the darkness. She hadn't gone more than a few houses distance before a horse neighed behind her and a man shouted, "THERE SHE IS! GET HER!" Willing her feet to move faster, she tore down the cobbled street and practically slammed into the closed door. She had only a second before they would be on her._

_ Her fingers slid along the wood, looking for the latch, but there was something__... "__Céilí Mór go léir a Ifreann!" she swore, yanking on the lock and staring forlornly at her only hope. "HELP!" she screamed at the top of her lungs, hoping that the monks would hear her. "Please someone, help me!" She heard someone approaching. Many people by the sounds of it. She was just starting to make out the faint light of a torch when someone grabbed her shoulder and spun her around. "Caught you, you little fraochÚn." She screamed again, raising her arms to fight him off, but it was of little use. He was just too big for her; add in all the layers of armor that he wore and she would be lucky to even loosen his grip. She could still hear the others getting nearer, the lights of their torches spilling into the square._

_ "You there! What are you doing?"_

_ The man who held her raised his head to glare at the newcomers. "I'm collecting my bounty, back off!" _

_ "What bounty? What are you talking about?" _

_ Her captor snarled, "This is none of your concern, go back to your temple." She turned her head to look at the one he spoke with. He was an aging man, not much over two score years, but the way he stood told her that he would be the one to persuade to help... if he would help at all._

_ "Please, sir. This man has hounded me across the continent. Help me escape him!" _

_ The elder man raised an eyebrow at her, "What has he done?" _

_ She swallowed, glanced at the man holding her then figured it was worth a try. She could always beg for forgiveness later. "He asked for my hand in marriage, sir. When my father denied him, he decided to..." she choked, "to take matters into his own hands. My father lies dead at our castle while I was forced to flee with only a few men to guard me. He's chased me here all the way from hAlban, intent on further … harm." _

_ The man snarled and shook her violently, "You are a liar!" _

_ The bishop reached out and grabbed her captors arm, "Enough! I've heard enough!" _

_ "Her cousin sent me here to find her to bring her home so that she could be married. She came here on her on volition and without sanction!"_

_ The bishops eyebrows raised and he turned back to Maerlyn, who hurried to explain, "I came after my brother. Now that our father's dead he is my rightful keeper, until such time as I take a husband. My father deemed this man an ill husband for me and as you can see, his feelings are justified." _

_ The bishop nodded slowly, then turned to his men. "Go prepare a room for our guest." _

_ The bounty hunter threw her to the ground and drew his sword, "What are you doing old man! The price on her head is very high and I intend to claim it for myself!" _

_ Her rescuer shook his head, "This is not the hour to be discussing whether or not she is lying. For now, the lady will be taking sanctuary within our walls." He helped Maerlyn to her feet before turning back to the irate bounty hunter, "And if you so much as think about trying to break that sacred oath, I will take it as a sign that the lady is speaking the truth and you will be killed in whatever manner she deems worthy. Am I understood?"_

_ She watched daybreak over the great port city, and wondered where her future lay. She couldn't leave Acre without her brother, but her family, her friends... they needed a better leader. Ewan was going to destroy the clan if he continued treating people the way he did... or course, none of that mattered if she didn't find Christian and take him home. Liam's dying request to her had been that Christian be placed in charge, or if need be her. Maerlyn didn't want the title, she had enough troubles simply being _related_ to the laird, she didn't need the added stress that came with the title. All those people trusting her with their lives and livelihoods, men looking to her to lead the charge against the enemy... She shivered and crossed her arms. No, she most definitely didn't want the title. Let Christian have it._

_ Maerlyn jumped slightly as the door to her guest chamber opened and a serving boy came into the room, carrying a bucket of fresh water. The young child paused when he saw Maerlyn, then dropped his gaze quickly before muttering, "Good day, My lady. I hadn't thought you would be awake." Maerlyn smiled gently, "It's an old habit. Is there anything needed of me?" The boy glanced up quickly, "The bishop would like to speak with you, my lady. He said it was something very important." Maerlyn nodded and quickly left the room, hoping that the bishop had finally seen reason and let her search for her brother. The bounty hunters were still waiting outside the church's door, like buzzards waiting for carrion. If she so much as took one breath of air outside the cathedral she would be taking back to her cousin in Scotland, and all hope of finding Christian would be lost._

_ She moved into the main room of the cathedral, its grand chapel drawing her gaze upwards for a moment before she turned back towards the altar and Host. The bishop stood at the end of the room, his arms folded into the sleeves of his robes and a squat messenger speaking in hushed tones was near him. The bishop noticed her entrance and waved her over to him, then nodded quickly to the messenger. "I will be sure to tell him." she heard him say as the messenger bowed then left them alone._

_ "You wished to see me, father?" The bishop smiled gently, then removed a small scroll from the recesses of his robe, "A note, from the Knight Commander." her eyes lit up and she broke the seal. Moving closer to a standing candelabra, she read, then re-read the short note:_

My Lord Bishop of Acre,

It has come to my attention that you now house a young woman, by name of Maerlyn MacGregor, in your church. I commend you upon acting as God's host to this woman, but I am afraid that the news she seeks is not to be found. Or in the very least happily.

The young Lord Christian MacGregor did indeed find his way to our camp here, and he did undergo our rituals to become a Templar. It pains me to tell you however that he died in our assault on the Saracen butchers at Montsigard. He stood his ground as his men regrouped further back on the field, giving his life so that others may live. Should the Lady MacGregor wish to see her brothers body, an escort stands ready to take her anywhere in the city, most of them men that her brother saved that day.

May all of God's blessings be upon you, Commander Sheapard.

_ Maerlyn didn't want to believe it, she could refuse to believe it, but she would be called insane. Before her lay her brothers tomb, a small slab of stone engraved with his name and the dates of his time with the Order, but she didn't want to believe it. She put one chilled hand on the cold stone, feeling the chill seep into her bones and she shivered violently. The knight beside her gave her an inquisitive look, but didn't say anything. She hated the sense of being alone in this world, alone when there were people everywhere around her. This was her brother! She couldn't be alone! Not now!_

_ There were footsteps coming from the end of the hallway, and then a gruff but gentle voice said, "My lady. We were able to retrieve some of your brothers belongings from the battlefield and his rooms here. The Commander has given you permission to take anything that you wish." She didn't look up at the speaker, just nodded and got to her feet. She was led down a short hallway then into a rotunda left open to the elements, with grand archways letting in the morning sun. In the center of the room a table had been set up, and scattered across it were several items that she recognized as belonging to Christian. The two Templar's that had escorted her bowed, then left her alone in the room, and with her thoughts. She moved closer to the table and ran her hand over the objects: A sword, a pair of boots, a spare tunic, a broken chain that she knew had once held his rosary and crucifix. None of these things really held any value to her, none of these were as important as her brother._

_ There was something though, a symbol of his station that Maerlyn knew Christian wouldn't have parted with willingly. She moved back to the sword and ran her hands over the grip. There was a small catch right about...there and if she just turned this...that way, a compartment opened and the small pouch fell into her waiting palm. The pouch was made of a scrap of the clans tartan, the green and black plaid intertwined with bright red, and a hint of purple to show their connection to the royal family. Inside the pouch was a small set chain, and on that chain, a locket. Her finger closed around the locket and she let the tears slide down her cheek._

_ "Farewell Christian."_

_ "Intruders! The Saracen's have breached the gate!" The shout came from below her, in the main courtyard of the cathedral. The bishop rushed to her side, a short sword in hand and a fierce look on his face. "They won't take this cathedral, my lady. God and my sword will see to that."_


	8. Will You Still Love Me Tomorrow

"When I was young," Maerlyn started, her thoughts tumbling around her head in a whorl, "Very young, much younger than I am now, my mother gave me a locket, and inside was a lock of hair, my own. She told me that when I would have most need of it, that hair would save my life."

Pete stared at her, not really understanding, but _'Heh. Let her speak... might be interesting.' _

Maerlyn raised a hand to her throat, where he noticed a silver chain for the first time, "I didn't know what she meant by that, but throughout my life, I've believed her. Trusted that what she said was right." She gave him a very sad look, as though reverting through the long memory of a long life, "When my brother, Christian, went of on the third crusade, I gave him this locket, telling him to keep it safe." Her face grew sad and her half smile turned into a frown, "He died in the Battle of Montgisard, while trying to protect a regiment as they fell back to regroup."

Pete nodded slowly, he probably would have liked this Christian... any man who was willing to give their lives... He leaned forward on the chair again and tried to catch her eye, "He died a hero. Even in these days, a soldier is trained to give their life for each other."

Her lip curled angrily and she shot to her feet, "That's some small comfort to those left behind!" The very air around her seemed to grow even more chilled as she continued to stare at him, her face a mask of the purest hurt and anger that he'd ever seen.

He took a deep breath and stood. "I'm sorry Maerlyn, I didn't mean to offend you..."

She softened, and it felt as though a breeze was finally moving through the room. "No, I shouldn't have jumped down your throat like that. You were trying to comfort me and I... I overreacted, as I usually do." she sat back down and put her face in her hands.

"So what happened? How did you end up here?"

"Remember when I said some knowledge is better left alone?" he nodded and she smirked, "There's a reason for that." she glanced out the door and sighed, "But that is a story for another time. It's almost dawn, and you have work to do tomorrow."

Pete's brow wrinkled and his lips slid into a pout. "I don't even get a little hint."

She stopped walking towards the door and watched him for a moment, then shook her head. "You should have been a lawyer, you're very persuasive, Peter."

Then she leaned forward and whispered in his ear, "Here's a clue: I met Artie before he was Artie." she then squeezed his shoulder and left the room.

Three hours later, Artie came into the bed and breakfast and froze in his place. Seated in the sunroom was Maerlyn, laughing with Leena. He took a breath, then started forward again, setting his bag on the table angrily. "Morning Leena."

The young girl looked up and smiled, "Morning Artie... goodness, have a bad night?" He shot her a look and she quickly raised her hands. "Alright, alright. I'll be somewhere else."

Once she was gone, he turned his hateful glare onto Maerlyn."I must say I'm surprised you're still here. I'd thought you'd be gone by now."

She snorted, and took a swallow of coffee, "Not yet I think." Her eyes twinkled slightly, and he snarled again, "What are you planning?"

She shrugged, "Nothing. I just thought 'd stick around for a while." He didn't trust her, never had... not fully anyway, not even when he'd been a child in his fathers shop. His mind raced as he sat down across from her, removing a rather strange looking pair of pliers from his bag.

She stiffened, and winced. "Not Cotton Mathers' pliers again. What do you want to know now?"

He gave her a wicked little grin, "Why you're here. You let us catch you in New York, I know it." He opened the pliers and pointed them at her, "Now remember, fighting only makes it hurt more." He closed them again, and asked, "Why are you here?" He pulled the pliers closer to his chest, and her chest rose, as though there was a hook in it and she grimaced. After a moment she gasped.

"Because you brought me here."

He sneered and tried again, opening then closing the pliers and pulling, "Why did you let us find you in New York?"

Again she fought the effect, but when a 'magical' something is literally pulling the truth out of you, it's hard to resist. "Because I knew you'd come to me."

"What for?" She fought it longer this time, closing her eyes and focusing her full strength against it. Artie released her, took a moment to think then tried again, "You needed us, the warehouse for something, what is it?" She let out a soft groan through her gritted teeth, fighting him as much as she could. He lessened the pull for a second, just long enough to say, "You know these haven't failed me yet with you. Besides, we both know you need the warehouse's help. Now what is it?" With one final tug, he nearly fell out of his chair, and she let out a scream.

"Pete is the direct descendant of Lord Peter Warrick, the Templar that saved me from Saladin's prison. It's been eight hundred years since he rescued me and I intend to rejoin him."

Artie closed his eyes and shook his head, "And how do you plan on doing that?"

She put a hand to her chest and took a slow breath, "As far as I know, there's only one way."

"And that is?"

"Blood, from both the receiver and giver of this 'immortal' life of mine."

Artie frowned, "So yours and Pete's?" she nodded, "In the... the..."

She nodded, "Yes, Artie. You're going to have to send him after the Holy Grail."


	9. Psych You out in the End

Artie stared at her in shock. They sat that way for another minute, the seasoned agent and the old... old, woman... before Artie shook his head and stood abruptly, "No." Maerlyn raised an eyebrow at him, "No? That's all you're going to say? No?" He glowered at her, his jaw clenching and un-clenching as he tried to sort out the many, many angry, vulgar and intimidating things he would like to say. He finally settled on, "No." He was about to walk out of the room when she also stood and went to him, grabbing his arm roughly, she turned him around and stared into his eyes, angrily.

"Arthur, you can't tell me no. This isn't something that you can just sweep under the rug and forget! I'm not supposed to be alive right now! I should have died in that dungeon and you know it! What Peter did wasn't... it wasn't right. I shouldn't be this way wand the Grail's the only thing that can make this right!" Artie's look soured, if that was even possible, and he removed her hand from his arm, throwing it back at her torso, "Touch me again, _my lady_, and I will bronze you." She inhaled swiftly, her eyes widening briefly before she nodded. Trying to keep her breathing even she walked back to the table and leaned forward on her hands, dropping her head and closing her eyes tight.

As Artie walked to the front door, he glanced up the stairs and saw Pete coming for breakfast. "I'll see you at the warehouse." Pete nodded, then glanced into the sunroom, where Maerlyn was still standing at the table, looking terribly defeated. Once the door slammed behind him, Pete moved over to her and sat down.

"So... what happened?" she raised her head and stared at him, the tops of her cheeks red from suppressed tears and breath coming in short gasps. "Are you alright?" she just stared at him, her eyes blank and unblinking. "Maerlyn?" She just stared at him, or rather past him. The iris of her eyes widening and turning completely black. Carefully he stood and backed away from her.

"Maerlyn?"

She stood completely and straightened her shoulders, raised her chin slightly and exhaled.

"Maerlyn?"

She moved toward the french doors and opened them wide, letting in the soft breeze and the light smell of honeysuckle. "Maerlyn MacGregor." She turned back to him and shook her head, her eyes finally clearing. "Huh? Oh, hi Peter."

"What was that?"

"What was what?"

Pete gave her a weird look and raised an eyebrow, Artie voice echoing in his mind.

_"She is the artifact."_


	10. Brothers in Arms

_Maerlyn sighed and lay back on the piles of furs on the cot and threw her newly healed arm across her eyes. "You shouldn't have done that." Peter looked at her, a slight smirk on his face, "I saved your life, my lady. Are you really complaining?" She rolled her eyes and sat back up to look at him, "Sir, I am not complaining that I am alive. Believe me, I am most certainly in your debt for it, but I cannot believe that you would use..." _

_ He sat back on his heels and raised an eyebrow himself. "We found it entombed with one of our own. Surprisingly enough, it was wrapped with this." He lifted a scrap of cloth, and Maerlyn hissed as she reached for it. "Ah, so you do recognize it?" She snarled at him and ripped the tartan from his hand, "It is the symbol of my clan. Christian wouldn't have put this with just anything. He must have truly believed that what he had was really..." Peter leaned forward on his forearms and stared at her intently._

_ "Now you see why I tried it to save you." She shook her head and took a deep breath, "It would be a wonderful recovery for the Church. Do you have it here? May I see it?" His eyes watched carefully for a moment before he moved. Walking over to the chest in the corner of his tent, he knelt and opened the lid. Maerlyn carefully propped herself up and watched as he removed a linen wrapped object and re-closed the chest. Her eyes widened as she looked at it, in awe that it could possibly be so simple and yet so absolutely stunning at the same time. Carefully, as though she was scared that she would break it, she stretched out a finger and traced the lip of it, gasping with delight as she found it smooth and looked up at Sir Peter. "Thank you... truly." He smiled, replaced the linen around it and hid it away. "I am surprised," she began, tightening one of the furs around her shoulders as she sat up, "that your commander would allow such a great item with one man and not guard it better." Peter gave her a harsh look, "Who's to say that I'm not the Templar commander, hm?" She chuckled and glanced down at her lap, still hidden beneath the furs. "You have a fair point, but even still, it does not change my question. Why keep it here?"_

_ He continued to watch her carefully, his expression hard and unyielding. She waited another moment before sighing, "Very well then, don't answer the question. Perhaps another?" he waited, eyebrow raised and half smirk on his lips, "My I have something to change into?"_

* * *

Maerlyn folded her arms and leaned back in the chair as she stared at the computer screen. "Tell me something, Claudia." The younger woman glances up from where she was tinkering with some new gadget, "What do you know about the Holy Grail?" She heard a thunk as the wrench Claudia had been using hit the floor and jumped slightly as Claudia sat in the chair next to her, eyes wide.

"Did you say Holy Grail?" Maerlyn nodded and then was shoved aside as Claudia typed in something into the search engine, bringing up a mass of pages that made Maerlyn's eyes widen. "This is everything that the warehouse has on it, plus a little bit of my own research." Maerlyn scanned a couple of the pages before she closed them all out. "Would you believe me if I said it was all wrong?" Claudia stared at her as though she'd grown a new head, "Wrong? What do you mean?" Maerlyn grinned, "You know, it would be so much easier for me to show you..."

"I don't know... I really should okay it with Artie..." Maerlyn rolled her eyes, "Oh please.. You know what Artie would say. Why don't we grab Pete and go? We'll have a senior agent with us... what could possibly go wrong?"

Claudia's brow knit together, then smoothed as she thought about it, "Where are we going?" Maerlyn smirked and stood, grabbing up a spare jacket she'd stashed at the warehouse the last time she was here, "Acre. The trail starts in Acre."


	11. Back in Black

_"MAERLYN!" _

_ Her legs pumped as fast as they could, her bare feet slapping against the stones as she raced through the waterfall. Sweat caused by the midday sun caused her clothes to stick to her back but the warm water drenched her clean. She hastily brushed her hair back from her face and scanned the sudden shade for anything that might help. A large stone, a loose tree root, ANYTHING! Swearing under her breath she moved forward. She could hear his footsteps behind her, hear him sloshing through the river. 'Some templar.' she thought as she moved through the depths of the cave, her feet sliding every so often. "I thought you were sworn to protect the Grail!" she shouted, her voice echoing off the stones around her. _

_ She heard his smirk as he called out, "I am! You are the one who stole it from the Order!" _

_ She shimmied down an embankment and pressed herself against the wall, willing herself to disappear. "You would have given it to HIM!" _

_ He laughed heartily, "HE will be the one to unite Europe! HE is a battlefield genius and HE already owns half the world!" Maerlyn snorted and pushed herself away from the wall and ran down a side passage. Once satisfied that he was a fair distance behind her she called back, "You should have given it to his brother!" _

_ She heard his snort and the slosh of water as he turned in the direction of her voice, "Richard didn't deserve eternal life! You only support him because of your infatuation with his myth!" _

_ She closed her eyes against the pain that washed over her. There was more to that than he would ever know. Richard was going to restore her to her lands, he was going to appoint her to his court to keep her close... to continue their affair. He was going to set aside his barren wife for her! She would have been Queen of England and the fights between the English and her people could have been stopped. Lives could have been saved so that no woman would have to cry over the remains of their husband, father, brother... son. "And John is a tyrant! A spoiled brat that should never have taken the throne!" She paused, waiting for his response, but when none came she ducked beneath an overhang of vines and raced away into the overwhelming sunlight._

_ The smell of smoke hung thick in the air as Maerlyn slipped past the guards outside the main gates of the palace, half choking on the acrid smell of burnt hair and roasting flesh. She bit her lip and pulled her cloaks hood up over her head, careful to keep her head down and the basket on her arm hidden beneath its folds as she darted into the front hall. Peter was in an upper chamber, she knew, and he would more than likely be discussing the current events with the Queen. She shook her head and followed the back halls and side passages to the Queens chambers and followed another maidservant into the room. Peter was standing at the window, arms folded and watching the burning._

_ "I've been expecting you, Lady Maerlyn." _

_ Her heart froze for a moment before she threw back her hood and stepped forward. "Where is it?" _

_ He turned to her, eyebrow arched, "Where's what?" _

_ She snarled, "You know of what I speak, **my lord.**" She glanced around the room, "Where have you hidden it?" _

_ He grinned and shrugged, "I would like you try to find it, my lady." _

_ She inhaled sharply and set her jaw, "Peter. I understand your intent and I almost agreed with you on this one, but there is a reason why it was hidden to begin with! Give the wrong person too much power and they will only abuse it!" She pointed at the window, meaning the courtyard below, "Thomas Cranmer is only dying today because of what he said against Queen Mary's dear mother, Catherine of Aragon! Nothing more." She hedged forward while Peter turned back to the window, the light of the flames brightening as they engulfed their victim, and there it was. Placed on a table and displayed with all the regalia due it. She looked at Peter, unsure if he would have made a replica._

_ He chuckled, "Yes, dear Maerlyn. That is what you seek." His breath caught and his eyes widened, but she didn't see it. Instead she felt the warmth of his blood flow over her hand and wrist where her dagger sank into his flesh. "Good. Farewell, Peter."_

_ She swallowed hard and strained against the irons around her wrists. "It's pointless to fight those, you understand." She looked up as a bearded man entered the room and sat back against the rails of the chair she was in. _

_ Maerlyn turned her head, a sneer marring her complexion, "Clearly."_

_ "So tell me, dear lady, why did you attempt to kill me?" She stared at the newcomer, keeping her breathing even. There was a sadistic look in his eyes that was unsettling. She wouldn't show weakness now. She couldn't afford to; she was so close to the Grail. _

_ Literally, it was sitting rather innocently onto the table beside her elbow. _

_ If only she wasn't chained. After another moment of rather tense waiting for her to give a response, the Russian cursed and strode towards her, his expression stern. He reached out and grabbed her chin, forcing her to look into his eyes as he gro__wled at her. "__ПОЧЕМУ!__ " She couldn't stop herself from swallowing, her only tell about her emotions. He smirked, "__Боитесь, леди?__" He spat out the last as though he'd said something filthy, then he paused a moment before speaking in thickly accented english. "Do you know who I am?" Maerlyn remained silent and he released her, throwing her head back as he did so and walking back to his original place._

_ Peter snorted, "As much as it pains me to say it, I would recommend patience with this one, sir." He moved forward from his place behind Maerlyn and arched an eyebrow at her. "Well, Maerlyn? Are you going to answer__ the question or not? Why try to kill me?" She raised her eyes to his and thinned them menacingly. He shook his head and clucked his tongue, "Glaring looks do not become you, my lady." He smirked and traced__ a finger along her jawline, making her twitch at the sudden contact. His eyes flashed and he grabbed her by the throat, __"Ah, sic vos have antiquum adhuc ignis."_

_ She growled and he loosened his grip on her throat, "Good luck getting the Grail now, ." _

_ Peter's eyes widened, "What have you done!" He turned to the Grail and reached for it, but his hand swept through it as though it was not there. He let out a great shout and turned back to her, his expression dangerous. "What have you done!" _

_ His hand came back as though he would punch her, but Stalin grabbed his arm, "Leave her to me. There are other ways of getting her to talk." Peter walked out of the room, leaving her to the wrath of the Russian premier._

The sun beat down on their heads, burning their necks and heating the ground so that it burned through the soles of their shoes. Pete swallowed for what must have been the millionth time and wiped the back of his hand across hie forehead. "Tell me again why I agreed to tag along to the middle to the desert?"

Claudia smiled and cleaned her sunglasses before returning them to her face, "I'm not going to answer that."

He glanced at her, then turned to Maerlyn. "And you?"

Maerlyn simply smiled broadly, and pointed to another hill. "Two words: Holy Grail."

He smiled widely, "Oh good. I've been brushing up on The Last Crusade,"

Maerlyn raised an eyebrow and frowned, "What... oh. Oh yes, Indiana Jones. Got it. Sorry, Pete, but Spielberg got a lot wrong." His brow knit together and he gave a slight pout, "Awgh. And I was looking forward to this trip, too!" Maerlyn giggled, "Don't worry so much, Pete. Believe me, by coming on this little journey," she gave him a mischievous look over her shoulder as they began walking down the street, "You chose wisely."

*Why!

*Are you frightened, lady?

*Ah. So you still have that old fire?


	12. Sound the Bugle

Artie walked into the office, a massive headache just settling in for the long haul, with a sour look on his face and his aura all wrong. Leena could see the soft mist around him swirling in a tempest and it gave off a rather foul smell... although she couldn't really tell if it was his aura or the mug of whatever it was that he held. "Morning Leena." he grumbled as he sat at the computer. She hedged backwards, wanting to put a bit more distance between them when he turned on the computers screen and saw...

"Holy Mother of …. She wouldn't... Cursed smart mouthed...!" He turned around and glowered at her, "When did they leave?"

"Three days ago. And no, you may not go after them." Artie launched out of his chair at the sound of Mr's Fredric's voice. The woman emerged from the balcony and folded her arms, staring at Artie in that way she had that allowed for no arguments.

Artie clenched his teeth and growled, "And why not? She abducted two warehouse agents!" Mrs Fredric gave no hint as to what she was thinking, just motioned to the chair he had so violently evacuated and said nothing until he was again off his feet.

"I know that this will be hard for you to believe, Arthur, but this is something that has to be done." He shook his head, "but you don't know what..." she raised a hand and cut him off.

"I think it's about time you learn what she really is."

* * *

Maerlyn was standing at the window to the hotel room, with Claudia and Pete asleep behind her, waiting for hell to unleash itself on the world.

She knew Peter was here. Knew that he was following her trail, and knew that if she didn't try to lose him she was going to lose everything... and another two warehouse agents.

She turned back to look at them. Claudia was stretched across their shared bed, hair covering her face and an arm over that, one leg thrust out from beneath the blankets and bent over the edge. Absolute peace... it made Maerlyn smile.

Pete, on the other hand... Pete wasn't really asleep. He was propped up on one elbow, watching her as she glanced at him. "You should be asleep." Pete gave her a half grin, "I was. What are you doing up?" He sat up, throwing off the blankets and coming to stand next to her. She looked back out the window, "Waiting for the other shoe to drop."

"What's that supposed to mean?" He folded his arms and leaned against the wall. She smiled faintly then looked at him.

"Pete. There's something I need to tell you. And I'm not entirely sure how you're gonna take it." She could feel his anxiety level raise as she continued to stare out the window and began to explain the whole purpose behind our tale:

"I first came to Acre in search of my brother Christian, I told you about him, and I found him. Or, more accurately, I found his tomb in a Templar mausoleum. They had collected his body from the battlefield and buried him as one of their own, and his belongings were about to be distributed to the others when I arrived. I was allowed to retrieve what I could. His sword, my locket and a swatch of our family's plaid. While I was there, the city was sacked by Saladin and I was thrown into the prison in one of the palaces." She shook her head, "Prison nowadays has nothing on then. Humanitarianism had no place. I was chained to a wall, made my bed with rats and ate undercooked human flesh, but that wasn't the half of it. I was a lone woman in that dungeon and every soldier in the city knew it." She gave him a pointed look, praying that she wouldn't have to explain _that_ particular part further. He made a sickened face and she continued.

"I was in there for four years, Pete. Four bloody years! I was certain I would die in that dungeon, I was in bad shape. My arms was broken, several ribs were cracked and every cut was infected, but I survived because of Lord Peter. He led a group into the dungeons to see who could be rescued and he chose me." She snorted angrily, "I should have known, Pete." He looked at him seriously now and he could see something lurking behind her eyes. Something he wasn't sure that was a terrible thing, but certainly not something he wanted to meet. "I should have known that he was power hungry. He desecrated my brothers tomb – I'm certain of it – and found the Holy Grail. Christian was smart, you see, he knew that if the Grail fell into the wrong hands terrible things would happen. But Peter got his hands on it and planned on drinking from it, probably thinking that he would be able to influence the world for the rest of time." She smiled widely, almost laughing as she said the next, "but he didn't count on Richard." his breath caught and she nodded, "Yes, Richard the Lionheart... my heart." her eyes grew soft as she thought about him, her voice changing the way most women's did when talking about someone they loved.

Pete smiled widely, "So... did he look like Sean Connery?"

Maerlyn rolled her eyes, "Oh dear god. No, Pete. Richard... Richard was someone that cannot be described. Tall, red-blond hair, built like a gladiator..." Pete folded his arms and raised an eyebrow, a knowing smile on his lips. Maerlyn stopped and giggled, "He saw me when I was brought from the dungeon and insisted that I be given a drink from the Grail. I had nothing else to lose, he saw it as a way to prove whether or not it was the true Grail. The instant it was proven that I would survive, Peter drank from the Grail and took half the gift."

"Half?"

"Immortality and Eternal Life. Most people assume that it means the same thing, but not entirely. While both do mean that you cannot die, Immortality is the ability to survive even the most mortal of wounds – save for the obvious ones like decapitation. In order for one to receive both part of the Grail's gift, one most drink from a _fresh_ batch of water. Peter didn't. He saw that I was going to live and so grabbed up the Grail and drank from that same batch, so...

"The gift was split." Pete was nodding, she could see the wheels turning in his head as he processed everything, "So, do you know who received what?"

Maerlyn nodded, "Well, to be honest it's more of a theory, but I'm fairly certain I'm right." She gave him a serious look, "Peter got Immortality. Years ago, what was it... You've heard of bloody Mary right?" he nodded, "Good. Peter wanted to have her drink from the Grail. She was going to 'restore the Old Religion' and 'Return England to the truth'. I couldn't let him do that. As good as her intentions were, anyone who thinks that an argument can be settled with bloodshed..." she sighed. "I stabbed him that night and took the Grail to a safer place. I had thought I'd ended it that night, but he caught up with me in Russia – sorry, at that time it was the U.S.S.R. – and turned me over to Stalin." Pete inhaled sharply and she nodded. "That was how I met Artie.. for the second time. The first was when he was just a kid in his father's music shop." She chuckled and gave a soft smile, "he was so cute..."

Pete arched an eyebrow at her, but she just kept talking. "He traded an artifact for me, the last before he got caught. Stalin valued nothing higher than an heir, and so Artie gave him Israel's Heart."

Pete's eyes widened, "I read about that! It's supposed to, uh, agh! I know this! Something about men and kids and..."

She nodded, "A diamond that Jacob – Israel – unearthed one day in his field. Somehow, don't ask me how, he spilled his blood on it and, well.., imbued it with his... ummm.." her cheeks felt hot.

Pete barked a laugh, "Not that's something that I didn't expect. You are how old and you're still embarrassed about sex?"

She clenched her jaw as she tried to not laugh about it. "Don't rub it in, okay? Anyway, that diamond was sought after by Henry the Eighth, he thought it would give him a son – when in reality it only guarantees that a child will be conceived, not the sex. However, he did wear it with his third wife, Jane Seymour, so I can understand the misconception... yeah, that's not important." She swallowed, "It was because of that trade that he was investigated by the government. He blames me for that, just as he blames me for the deaths of Agents Patrick, Holden, and Hartly. Jones not as much, but he was killed by the typewriter which I sent the alert about... It seems that whenever I get involved with artifacts or the warehouse, something bad happens and it's usually that someone dies." She sighed and rubbed her upper arms, shaking her head. "But that's just the way Artie is. There isn't anything I can do to change his mind. "Sadly, that's not the last time I had to get the Grail away from Peter either. The entire time since we drank from the Grail he's been trying to get someone into power that he agreed with, who he saw as strong enough to correct the world. He's been like this since the Templars were disbanded, the massacre of his fellows left him a little crazed. I don't know what his true intentions are, but as the years passed..." She closed her eyes and shook her head again, "King John, Bloody Mary, Napoleon, Lenin, Stalin, Pol Pot, Idi Amin Dada... and those are just the names you'd recognize. I could show you some of the people in the Bronze Sector who would make your blood run cold, Pete. And he wanted to make them leaders of the world! He wanted to make them immortal!"

Pete swallowed, "So what are we going to do?"

Maerlyn gave him a sad look, "The only way I know of that will cancel the effects of the Grail is to take the blood from those who drank from it, place the blood into the Grail and then neutralize it."

"But won't that affect you?"

"It'll change the Eternal Life bit, but I'd love to be normal again." She looked up at him and for the first time he saw how the moonlight was shadowing her features in such a way that she really was beautiful.. "I'd love to be able to just go out and enjoy a day without having to worry about who Peter is going to offer the Grail to. If peace of mind means that I won't live until the end of time, then so be it." She moved away from the window, turned away from him and was removing her t-shirt when he grabbed her arm and turned her around.

He wasn't thinking. Just reacting.

And then he was kissing her.

Artie leaned back against his chair, his eyes wide. "I... I never thought about that." Mrs Fredric nodded, "I know." She stood and made her way to the door, before she glanced back at him, "This is something she needs to learn on her own, Artie. You've taught him well. Pete will know what to do."


	13. One Winged Angel

Maerlyn stepped back from Pete, closed her eyes and took a slow breath. "Pete... what was that about?"

He wrinkled his brow and stared at her, "What... what did I do?"

She stared at him, "Pete... you just kissed me."

His eyes widened, "I, I ... I did what?"

Maerlyn took a moment to think; there was only one artifact that she knew of that caused instant affection like that, but last she checked _that_ was still in the warehouse. So what could possibly... She brought a hand over her mouth and gasped, "Oh dear God!"

Pete's eyes widened at the sudden horror in her voice, "What! What is it?" She shook her head and stepped backwards towards the bed where Claudia slept and kicked it with the back of her foot to wake the girl.

Claudia sat up quickly, blinking her eyes as she looked around the room. "Wh- huh? What's going on?"

Maerlyn just grabbed her arms and hauled her from the bed, "C'mon. We're getting another room."

The poor girl was still half asleep as she tried to keep up with Maerlyn, who was practically dragging her to the door. "Maerlyn, where are you going?"

She stopped and turned around, keeping herself between Pete and Claudia. "We need to get another room."

Claudia tapped Maerlyn's shoulder and she glanced back at her, "Um, and how are we going to pay for it?"

Maerlyn sighed and rolled her eyes. She pointed at Pete, "Back up, and get no closer than four feet to me."

Pete backed into the far wall, more than the required four feet, and Maerlyn moved to her duffel on the desk and removed her wallet. She turned to Claudia and tossed it to her, "Use the Visa in there to get you and I a new room." Claudia opened her mouth to ask a question, but Maerlyn raised her eyebrows and half shouted, "NOW!" Claudia jumped and raced outside the room

. Maerlyn turned to Pete, who was still keeping his distance. "What artifact is doing this?"

She gave a half grin and laughed, "Well, my first thought would have been the original mistletoe but I know that's still in the warehouse."

Pete was nodding, "Alright, so we need something that acts like the misteltoe but isn't." He shook his head, "When did we become part of House's team?"

Her brow wrinkled, "Huh?" she shook her head before he could explain, "Never mind. We just need to find it." Pete nodded and stepped forward, intending to look under the bed, but she raised her hands, "No! Don't move!"

He slammed his back against the wall again and stared at her, "How am I supposed to help then?"

She shook her head, "If this is what I think it is it might not be so bad, but if you get within four feet of me then we are going to be in big trouble." She knelt and lifted the bed skirt, then reached beneath it with her hand, searching. "Move to the switch and turn the light on will you?"

"Why four feet?" Pete asked as she half wriggled beneath the tall bed to get a better look.

She gave a muffled response, and he leaned in a bit, "What?" She emerged from her hiding place and sneezed at the dust she'd kicked up. "Oh. The average length of the arm is two feet. As long as we stay out of arms reach of each other we should be alright." She crawled beneath the second bed and he watched as her feet kicked against the floor and she shimmied deeper beneath the bed. He heard her give a shout then watched as she wriggled back out. She stood, her face ashen, and held out her fist, her fingers closed tight around the tiara's band. "Pete, get a bag. Quick!"

He moved fast, opening his suitcase and removing a bag and holding it out so that she could drop the tiara into it. As he sealed it he saw that her hands were shaking. "What was that?" She tried to breath as she explained, "It works by proximity, not action. That... **thing** is very powerful and must be put in the Dark Vault as soon as you get back to the warehouse."

Pete was confused, "But what is it?"

She swallowed, "Something I had hoped to never see again." They both stood silent for a moment while she regained control of herself, but they both jumped when Claudia came back. "What? What'd I miss?" she asked, looking between the two of them quickly but neither spoke. Huffing she held out Maerlyn's wallet and raised an eyebrow, "The only room open was the penthouse."

Maerlyn nodded, "And the maids won't be in for another six hours, at least. Good. Grab your bag, Claud. You too, Pete. Time to get out of this room." She picked up her own duffel bag and stalked out the door, a cold wind rolling off her shoulders as she led the way to the elevator. They were halfway between floors when she spoke again. "That tiara belonged to a courtesan in ancient Rome. She was the most expensive, most experienced of her entire house. She would wear that tiara when she began her shift, luring in her … conquests in to herself. She became so popular that she would leave a candle burning all night, so that men could simply rotate through her chamber." She swallowed harshly, "One night that candle caught a gust of wind and sparked a nearby curtain, which quickly engulfed the entire room with flames. Both she and her current lover died, but the tiara survived. The first time I encountered the tiara was in Greece, when I was traveling to Acre. I had a company of ten men with me when I first set out, but over the course of the trip I lost them all. The most memorable was young James," She pointed at the suitcase standing next to Pete, "He fell prey to that tiara. A young whore was wearing the damned thing and he caught sight of her. He asked for a night off, and in my ignorance I gave it to him."

She shook her head as the doors opened and they walked into the penthouse suite, "We found him the next morning, burnt almost beyond recognition." She pointed to the farthest room, "I'd recommend putting it in there. Even with the containment bag it's in, I don't trust it." Claudia yawned and walked to one of the open bedroom doors, "Now, can I get some sleep?" Maerlyn smirked, "Yes." The young girl nodded sleepily and walked like the living dead to a bed, collapsing onto it and snoring almost as soon as she hit the blanket. She then turned to Pete, "I'll sleep in that room with her. You, stay out here and keep away from that tiara."

Pete nodded, "One last question." She raised an eyebrow at him, "I'm getting a vibe that says you are terrified of something, specifically that tiara." She looked past him to where his suitcase sat, a shadow passing behind her eyes. "I know there are something's that are better off not known, but I can't ignore this."

She waited for a long moment, staring at the suitcase. Swallowing, she answered, "I sent that tiara home after we found it. I knew nothing about the warehouses or anywhere else I might be able to send it. There's only one person who could have brought it into play." Her eyes moved to his, staring into his soul.

"If my cousin Ewan has drunk from the Grail, and if he has joined with Peter, then we are all in very grave danger."

Sleep didn't come easily that night to either of lay on his back, staring at the ceiling and wondering just what this cousin of hers could do that would make her so afraid of him? Images sifted through his mind, each more disturbing and terrifying than the last. Inhaling sharply, he shook his head and rolled over, determined to fall asleep. He could deal with this tomorrow.

Maerlyn lay on her stomach, pillow squashed beneath her folded arms and chin resting on it while her mind buzzed with ways to get away from Pete and Claudia without them following her. It had been a mistake to bring them along. She could have gotten a blood sample from him in some other way, it only had to be given willingly for it to work. To finally release her from this half life...

She could feel his mind brush against hers as she drifted in that realm between sleep and waking.

_"Maerlyn... Maerlyn. I know you can hear me."_

She shuddered and tried to ignore him, closing her eyes tight and taking a deep breath. For eight hundred years she had been trying to out run him... outrun his tainted mind. The Grail had split it's gift of an immortal eternal life, something that had slowly eaten away at the walls between she and Peter until they could almost be the other.

_"Maerlyn, dear lady. I know you can hear me..."_

She clenched her jaw and practically threw herself out of bed and began to dress, letting the words of her Father's lullaby ring through her mind in order to block him out. She had just shimmied into her jeans and was tying the halter of her shirt behind her neck when Peter's shout broke through her defenses.

_"LADY MAERLYN MACGREGOR! ANSWER ME!"_

She swallowed, checked her appearance in the mirror, removed the visa card Claudia had used earlier from her purse and left it on the dresser with a quickly scrawled note that the two of them were going to take it and use it to go home. Things had gotten too dangerous for them to follow her, they had to go home. She then pulled a couple hundred dollars from that same wallet, stashed it in her bra and left the hotel.

The only thing she was certain of was that Pete would completely ignore her warning and come after her. He was too like Christian not to.


	14. Underground

Peter smirked, his eyes flashing as he watched her walk into the museum, and turned to the burly Scotsman on his right. "I told you she would come." Ewan gave him an evil glare, but kept silent. Not as though he had much choice, seeing as Peter had cut out his tongue years ago. Peter just kept smirking and pointed to the doors of the museum as they closed behind Maerlyn. "She's your cousin, how do you want to deal with her?" Ewan's eyes thinned and his hand fell to the Colt .45 at his hip. Peter's smirk widened to a true smile, "Good plan." Peter turned back to staring down at the museums doors, "A very good plan, indeed."

Maerlyn could feel his eyes on her as she climbed the stairs at the museums door. She knew he would be following her, knew that they both would be, but she had no choice. She refused to give Artie any more ammunition to bronze her. He'd been such a cute child when she'd first met him, but clearly life had done its job in forcing him to grow up. She paused once she was inside, letting her eyes adjust to the dimmer interior. It had been because of Artie that she'd gotten away from Stalin in the first place, she owed him this much. She glanced around, silently grateful that the museum was mostly empty. One of the few benefits to coming to Acre in the middle of July, it was too bloody hot for any sane person.

She needed to get to the far hall, where the Egyptian exhibit was set up. She loved walking through the halls painted to look like the walls of a burial chamber, the gilded sarcophogi and all the trinkets that were showed. She'd hidden the Grail here once, right there, but Peter had found it sooner than she had thought possible. That had led to her going to Cambodia... she shuddered thinking about it and quickly moved on. The sooner she got this done and over with, the better. For all of them. Ewan wouldn't have a chance to attack Claudia, Peter wouldn't be able to hurt Pete and she could send them home without Artie getting after her again. She could disappear into the world and be … free.

But none of that could happen unless she got the Grail first, somehow got Peter's – or Pete's for that matter – blood into the bowl, and neutralized it. She shook her head, brushed back her hair from her face and clenched her jaw, determined to get them all out of this alive.

Then lights exploded behind her eyes and the world went black.

Maerlyn woke slowly, her head throbbing where she'd been hit and her nose bloodied, she could feel the blood drying on her lip. Her hands were tied behind her and another rope was lashed around her torso while her legs were tied to the legs of the chair. It was dark, wherever she was, and the voices around her were muffled... as though she were hearing them through cloth... "This is so cliché, Peter. You couldn't think of something better?" She heard someone walk up to her, felt him grab the sack and rip it from her head, along with a small handful of hair. "Ow! Hey, watch it!" She looked up at him and a chill ran down her spine and the smile died on her lips.

"Ewan." Her elder cousin snarled at her, throwing the sack onto the ground then backhanding her across the mouth. She spat blood, "I see you still have your … flair, with women."

He snarled again and raised his hand but someone grabbed him from behind. "Patience, Ewan. We do need her alive... for at least another few hours at the least."

Maerlyn rolled her eyes, "What's it to be now Peter? Hot oil or the rack?" She titled her head and cocked an eyebrow, "Hmm? Or wait... let me guess. You can't find the Grail and have some new terror in mind." Peter just smiled at her, keeping his expression as clear of emotion as he could. "No? Let me think then..." she eyed him warily, knowing what Peter was capable of thinking up, but Ewan... There was a reason why she left home when she did.

Peter stepped in front of her, kept his hands clasped behind his back and finally spoke, "I've thought of something better. Maerlyn. Something much, much better than torture." She fought the urge to swallow, to show any emotion as she stared at him. He leaned down, bringing his face level with hers and bracing his hands on the arms of her chair. "You're not going to show us the Grail... but he will." Peter moved to the side and extended his hand towards a thick drape. Now Maerlyn did swallow. If they'd gotten their hands on Pete they had another thing coming... She also had to work up her angry face and tone for when they finally got to speak. She was supposed to have told him to go home, not be happy to see him.

"Hi, Maerlyn."

"Pete. I thought I told you to go home!"

"Yeah, about that... couldn't do it."

"Ugh! Do you have any idea what they'll do to you?"

Peter interrupted, "Oh, he knows. We've gotten our hands on another one of your little friends... a young woman named, Claudia Donovan?"

Maerlyn struggled against the ropes, "You sick bastard. Where did you stash her?"

"Where's the Grail?" Maerlyn looked away, a determined frown on her face. Ewan growled and grabbed her by the chin, forcing her to look up at him. His expression was dark and his eyes flaming, the same look he'd had when she had supported Christian as heir after Liam. The same look that meant she was in trouble... again.

Pete watched as Ewan lifted Maerlyn, chair and all, from the floor. Her face was white and her eyes wide in terror. This had to be her cousin, the one she feared. What could he have possibly done that would have made her so scared? And if that was Ewan then who was the guy who looked eerily familiar. "Maerlyn! Maerlyn, listen to me. Tell me how to get to the Grail and we can all go home." She swallowed hard, forcing herself to think clearly.

"The Crusades exhibit. You'll need to follow the directions very carefully." She tore her gaze away from Ewan as he set her down again. Pete was breathing heavily, "Remember Pete. You must chose wisely."

"Crusades... got it." He stood and gave Ewan a careful glance, "You going to be alright here?"

Peter laughed, "She'll be fine." His look turned sour and he grabbed Maerlyn by the back of her neck, forcing the woman to straighten her back. "Yes... she'll be just fine." Ewan growled and chuckled in that peculiar way he had. Maerlyn swallowed hard and a glint came to Pete's eye. "You return with the Grail and we'll let your friend Claudia go."

"And Maerlyn?" Ewan grinned wickedly and Peter gave her a little shake.

"You're friend here stays with us."

"Then I'm not going."

Peter's fingers dug into Maerlyn's neck. He leaned down and whispered loudly in her ear, "Tell this warehouse agent what will happen if he doesn't retrieve the Grail for us." Ewan growled again and folded his beefy arms, his chest swelling threateningly.

"Pete..." Maerlyn cleared her throat, forcing herself to not sound as frightened as she was, "Pete. Go and get the Grail, bring it here and take Claudia home. I can take care of myself." She snorted, "I've had to for the last few centuries."

Pete didn't look as certain as her tone sounded, and to be honest she wasn't that certain of it herself. She knew Ewan had a gun, as he'd always had a sword in the old days and he most certainly would have gained a gun by now. Pete's eyes fell to Ewan's hip, eyeing the .45 carefully. "If you're sure." His gaze went back to Maerlyn who just stared at him, her throat closed in terror.

"As sure as I ever will be."

She still didn't sound sure, but Pete didn't have a choice. It was Claudia or Maerlyn, and Maerlyn had sent him off. "Where's the museum from here?"

Pete walked through the museum, the neutralizer bag hidden beneath his shirt. He just hoped that he could find the Grail in time. Claudia didn't have a chance against the hall of torture devices they'd stuck her in, not without her bag of tricks. Ewan had stolen that off her when they'd nabbed the two of them from the penthouse. It was getting close to closing hours, he only had maybe an hour at best before he would be kicked out of here. Now... where was that exhibit?... Ah, found it! Now, she had said that he'd have to follow to directions.. but what directions? Where were...

He was standing in front of a small display, showing Richard the Lionheart and Prince Saladin, Richard was pointing in a far direction, away from Saladin, towards what appeared to be a backdrop of Acre. He was about to turn away when her voice echoed through his mind, _"Follow the directions very carefully."_ Well, Ricahrd was pointing in a direction... is that what she meant? "Umm, sir? Can I ask you to walk to the front entrance? We're closing soon." Pete reached into his breast pocket on reflex, but instead removed a small iPod and earbuds wrapped in a slip of paper. "Sir?" The attendant looked confused, "Sir, can I help you?"

Pete shook his head and waved him away, "Thanks, I'll work my way there soon." The attendant nodded, confused about the strange American who was opening a lightly scented bit of paper.

"Follow these directions, Pete." Maerlyn's handwriting was small and he had to squint to read it, "In the Dark of the Night, go Running up That Hill that Richard is pointing to, but I hope you'll Still Love me Tomorrow if I Psych You Out in the End. We're all Brothers in Arms in the end, Pete, and when we're Back in Black we'll Sound the Bugle that sends the One Winged Angel to the Underground." Pete's head was shaking, 'What in the world does she mean?' There was a small break, then the handwriting began again, "And Pete, remember. Blood is the key, it only needs a small bit, Pete. Just a small drop." On the side of the paper was a slip of a browning stain, he was afraid he knew what it was. Maerlyn had purposely given herself a paper cut deep enough to leave a blood smear. Ugh... wait. She wasn't intending him to use _his_ blood, did she? What good would that do?

He walked back to the entrance, passing the main desk and the same attendant that he'd talked to earlier, "Hey, um, that map in the Crusade exhibit there's a map of the city." The attendant nodded, "That wouldn't be a current map, would it?"

The man shook his head, "No, it's the city as it was when the Ceur de Lione invaded."

Pete nodded, "It looks like he's pointing to a hill... do you know where that is?"

The attendant's eyes widened, "That's the Templar hill. It's where the Knight's Templar kept their dead and was their headquarters in the Middle East until they were disbanded."

"How do I get there from here?"

Claudia shook her head and groaned. What in the world did that Pete look a like hit her with anyway? A brick wall? She tried to open her eyes, but something was covering them and something else was holding her wrists tightly behind her back. What in the hell? Seriously? Did they think that simple handcuffs would hold her? She made quick work of the latch and removed her blindfold, only to find herself in an equally dark room with larger patches of dark lining a hallway around her. Now what?

Pete waited until sundown before he began his walk up the Templar hill. That museum guy had said that this was the place where the Templars had buried their dead, and Maerlyn had said that her brother had joined the Templars... the note said brothers in arms... He shook his head and looked again at the earbuds and iPod. Everything on the note was the title of a song... maybe she'd made a playlist for him? "How tacky." He smirked and put in the earbuds, hit play and walked down the alley.

_"In the dark of this night I was tossing and turning, and the nightmare I had was as bad as can be. It scared me out of my wits, a corpse falling to bits! Then I opened my eyes and the nightmare was me!..."_

Pete frowned, not quite understanding and ticked the track over to the next song.

_ "... You wanna know, know that it doesn't hurt me?...And if I only could, make a deal with God, and get Him to swap our places..."_

_ "...But will my heart be broken, when the night, meets the morning sun..."_

_ "...You'd rather run when you can't crawl..."_

_ "...Through these fields of destruction, baptisms of fire, I've witnessed your suffering, as the battle raged higher. And though they did hurt me so bad, in the fear an alarm. You did not dessert me, my brothers in arms..."_

_ "...I've been too long, I'm glad to be back... Forget the hearse cause I'll never die..."_

_ "...As the seasons change, remember how I used to be. Now I can't go on, I can't even start. I've got nothing left, just an empty heart...Without a light, I fear, I'll stumble in the dark... Then from on high, somewhere in the distance... 'If you lose yourself, you're courage soon will follow'... To be free once more, yeah, that's worth fighting for!"_

_ "No one can blame you, for walking away... Life can be easy, it's not always swell...down in the underground, a land surreal, a crystal moon... It's only forever, not long at all."_

Pete had reached the gate, a great wrought iron piece that creaked on its ancient hinges when he pushed on it, but swung easily enough when another song came through the speakers...

_"Who wants to live forever? Who wants to live forever? Who dares to love forever, when love must die?"_ He stared down at the iPod in shock, what was she trying to say?_ "But touch my tears, with your lips. Touch my world, with your fingertips. And we can have forever. And we can love, forever. Forever, is our today... Who waits forever anyway..."_

The gate was open, and up the path a little further stood a great mausoleum with lamps lighting the halls and making the place look very old indeed. Pete swallowed and took a tenative step forward.

"Only the penitent man shall pass. Only the penitent man shall pass. Only the penitent man shall pass. Only the penitent man shall pass. Only the penitent man shall pass. Only the penitent man shall pass. Only the penitent man shall pass. Only the penitent man shall pass. Only the penitent man shall pass. Only the penitent man shall pass."

And so he began his descent into an underground tunnel, lit through a crystalline ceiling by the lights above.


	15. Who Wants to live Forever?

Pete scanned the hallway before him, the crystalline floor above him refracting the lights from the floor above and making alternate shadows in the side passages. So this was a mausoleum. Hm, not as bad as he'd thought it was. The path wound around and down, getting darker and darker until he reached a landing where he couldn't see more than a few feet in front of his face, nor down the stairwell without it becoming an all encompassing blackness. He reached into his pocket and again removed the iPod. Seemed as though Maerlyn had known all along he'd be making this trip alone. He went through the menus quickly and flicked the back light to a longer timer and continued his trek. Thankfully the lower floor was only a few more landings beyond his stopping point, and he moved his small light around to get his bearings. It was a large hallway, with thick panels standing out from the walls at regular intervals and other halls branching off from it. The corner on his right held a basket, and inside it was a pair of flashlights.

_ Two? Who else knows about this place?_

He made his way down the main hall, checking the large plaques and edifices; some of the names had been rubbed smooth while others had been carved deep into the stonework. Ways to remember the men behind them, so that their memory might never die. The dates beneath the names, but they didn't seem long enough to be the men's birth and death dates... maybe their time in the Templars? He stopped and gave one a better inspection.

"**Lord Christian of MacGregor, **

**Second son of Laird Malcolm, of Clan MacGregor**

**Templar Knight, 1176 – 1177. **

**Warrior of the Heart and Soldier for the Lord, Brother is Arms."**

Pete's eyebrows raised, This was her brother? His hand lifted and rested on the surprisingly warm metal. She'd said that Peter had desecrated her brothers tomb... she must have come back to replace this. A chill breeze blew past him and he looked up, surprised and half expecting a vampire or some such creature to be standing next to him. Instead he was staring into blackness and listening to the echo of a voice. Something about it made goosebumps erupt on his skin and the marine in him stand at attention. It was the voice of a commander.

He continued down that hallway, his pace significantly faster than before. His gut was writhing, vibes could definitely be annoying when they weren't wanted. He already knew who lay ahead.

Claudia felt her way to a wall, careful to keep her steps small and the advancing foot to scrape along the floor to make sure she wouldn't trip on anything. She remembered the one that looked like Pete say something about a museum, how they were lucky that a traveling exhibit of Medieval Torture Devices around. She was scared to think as to what they would consider good luck, and images of iron maidens and the rack ran through her mind. She stopped, took a slow breath and shook her head to clear it. She was a warehouse agent. She could and would get through this. She just needed a plan.

Her toe bumped against something and she froze, then kicked it again and it gave a hollow metallic thunk. She shivered and reached forward, her finger brushing against a smooth metal sheet. She moved her palm against it and found out that it was a full wall, from the floor to as high as she could reach. She followed the metal to a stone and metal corner, her fingers dipping into what felt like a key hole, then followed her steps back to another corner. She was in a rectangle shaped room, not too small, but neither was it comfortable. She had a lighter in her pocket, but she didn't think lighting it would be a good idea. She was in a box.

She was buried alive.

Forcing herself to keep calm, she walked around the room again, this time counting her steps along each wall. Four paces by six... not a lot of room to maneuver but she could think of something. Too bad her kidnappers didn't think to search her person more thoroughly. She pulled a hairpin from her back pocket "Y_ou never know when your gonna need one, Artie!"_ and ran her fingers along the edge of the metal surface, looking for that groove she'd felt earlier... Now where was it again? Ah., right... here! She slipped the pin into the groove and pushed gently, hoping that she was right and this was actually a door onto some storage closet. She smiled and silently let out a whoop as she heard a tumbler click and the metal slanted away from her, letting in a brush of fresher air.

Now she did pull out her lighter and held it above her head. Now she was in a large throughway, lined with plaques and carved stone faces. Where... a mausoleum? Really? She rolled her eyes, how cliché. She took a deep breath and moved forward slowly, glancing at some of the names as she passed. One in particular caught her eye and she stopped to get a better look. Beside the large metallic plaque was a stone likeness showing a man in his early thirties with close cropped hair and deep set eyes. Her head tilted as she stared at the face. The man had a strong jaw with his lips lightly curled at the corners as though he had just been told a joke and his eyes, though made of stone, seemed to be laughing. Something about him seemed familiar and yet she knew that she'd never seen this guy before. She looked over at the plaque and understanding dawned

"**John Sheapard, Commander of the Knights Templar in Acre**

**Fourth son of Jacob Sheapard, of London**

**Templar Knight 1170 – 1187**

**Knight Commander 1177 – 1187**

**Paragon of the People and Renegade of Women, Brother in Arms"**

Commander Sheapard? Really? She snorted and shook her head, clearly she needed to get away from the video games. She looked at the stone face again. That's why he looked so familiar. Huh. Must have been related to the model for the character. Shrugging, she moved on down the hall, but something tugged at her gut. If she was in a mausoleum, then where the hell did she come out of? She looked back over her shoulder to where she'd come from, a shiver running down her spine. Was it supposed to be another slot for someone? Or what...

While curiosity ay have killed the cat, it always seemed to be helpful to Claudia Donovan. Swallowing, she went back to the room and moved the metal a bit to be able to get a better look at it's front. It was divided into three sections, with only the bottom plate filled in. Her eyes widened as she read the name

"**Lord Peter Warrick,**

**Third son of Joseph Warrick, of East Anglia**

**Templar Knight 1185 – "**

Claudia whistled, No epitaph, must have said the wrong thing to the wrong person. She moved the metal back and lifted her lighter to get a better look. It was a large space, if it was only meant to house a coffin. She moved inside again, careful to make sure that the metal stayed open this time. At the center of the space was a raised dias, clearly where the coffins were supposed to be placed and the walls were made of large stones cut to precise measurements, the work of a master craftsman. She walked around the space again, but stopped halfway along the back wall. One of the stones appeared to have cracked along it's middle, possibly from the weight if the building above.

"Claud, you have seen one too many movies." she whispered to herself, running her fingertips along the cracked edge. No dust escaped the crack and it felt more purposeful than accidental now that she looked at it. Clicking her lighter closed, she adjusted her seat and gave the stone a gentle tug. It came free almost too easily and she quickly picked up the lighter again to see what she'd uncovered.

It was an ivory colored box, smooth as polished oak, but was locked. It was about fifteen inches long, twelve across with a depth of another eight and although it had some heft to it, didn't feel like it would be a pain to carry. She could see where words had once been inscribed on the face, but something had rubbed them smooth to the point that she could only make out the word "truth". She lifted the box onto the dias and swiveled around to get a better look. There were no hinges on the box that she could see, but somehow it was sealed. She couldn't even see how it could be opened, or that it actually could be opened. Gingerly, she lifted the box in one hand and gave it a shake, listening for anything to rattle around inside.

All she heard was a muffled thunk as something rolled inside the box, something that sounded like it was rolled in cloth. She pulled her head back from the box and stared at it in shock, the gears in her mind working quickly.

"No way..."

The room Pete walked into was round, with regular halls shooting of from the main hub with arched entries. In the center of the room was a raised marble altar, with words carved into its base. The top was smooth and held an array of goblets. Images of the Last Crusade flashed through his mind and Pete shook his head.

"You'd best chose wisely." The voice from before sounded behind him and Pete turned to see a man in armor and chainmail standing behind him, sword in front of him, point down so that his hinds were resting on the pommel. Pete raised an eyebrow, he couldn't help himself. It was too perfect.

"So what do I need to do?"

The man smirked, his blue eyes catching the light of Pete's flashlight, "You need to answer three questions."

Pete drew in his chin, "Monty Python? She prefers MONTY PYTHON!" He laughed and turned away from the Knight briefly. "Alright, My names is Pete Lattimer, my quest is to seek the Holy Grail and my favorite color is blue." The Knight raised an eyebrow, but remained silent. Pete spread his hands, "What? Not good enough?" He slapped his hands together and rubbed the briskly, "Alright, then. In order to find the Grail you must follow the Path of God, the Word of God and the Breath of God." Still the Knight said nothing and now Pete was getting anxious, "What am I to say?"

"Nothing."

Pete spun around to see Peter and Ewan enter, leading a bound Maerlyn by a leash. She stumbled slightly and rested against the archway. Pete caught her glance, but she revealed nothing. Just stared ahead at the altar as though wishing it would disappear. Peter strolled forward, his expression excited. "Well now. Isn't this clever, missy." He spun on his heel and motioned to the array of goblets behind him, "You certainly have been watching a lot of movies." Maerlyn didn't speak, just adjusted her stance so that she could see the Knight more clearly, a smug smile on her face. Pete watched her as she nodded to the Knight, then closed her eyes, still leaning against the wall. Peter saw it too, and looked to where the Knight stood half cloaked in shadow. Peter's eyes widened and he took a step back, clearly surprised by whomever the man was. "_YOU!" _His breath escaped in little more than a whisper, but it spoke volumes about what he felt about the man.

Claudia was halfway down the passage when she heard voices ahead of her, One she didn't recognize and Pete. She allowed herself a sigh of relief and was about to move into the room ahead when a strong hand grabbed her arm and pulled her aside into a niche in the wall. She opened her mouth to shout to Pete but a large hand clamped over her mouth and held her tight against a strong tall frame. She felt her captors breath against her neck as he leaned down to whisper in her ear, "Wait. You're about to be found out by your enemy... and mine." She held still as a light appeared from further down the passage as the Pete look-a-like, the tall angry mute and a tied up Maerlyn moved past the hiding spot. Once they were gone the man holding her released his grip and she almost tripped forward to get away from him. She clenched her teeth and hissed at him, "Who are you?"

She could just make out his size in the darkness, lightened by the gathering of flashlights in the room ahead. He was tall, easily six and a half feet, with broad shoulders and thick arms. He was wearing a T'shirt and jeans with thick soled boots, possibly combat boots but she couldn't tell for sure. The only thing she felt for certain was that he wasn't with the two who had attacked her and Pete, and that meant he was a friend of Mearlyn's. He had to be.

The Knight nodded slowly, his helm well fitting and not sliding in the least, the nasal bar helping to hide his features but there was no mistaking the clear green eyes, so like his mothers, the strength of his jaw, a gift from his father, nor the slight downturn of the corners of his mouth, from his time with the Templars, as Lord Christian of the MacGregors glared at Peter in a barely controlled rage.

"I should have known. Your death was greatly exaggerated, Lord Christian." Peter spat, waving the revelation away as though it were nothing more than a passing rat. "Although I am surprised that she allowed anyone to drink from it, after all these years of her preventing my doing so to others."

Maerlyn snorted, and opened her eyes, "You were choosing tyrants and murderers."

Peter pointed to Christian, "And your precious brother is no better?"

Maerlyn cocked an eyebrow, "Really, Peter. I would have thought you'd have moved beyond that by now." Ewan snarled angrily and yanked on Maerlyn's leash, forcing her to stumble forwards to her knees. He grabbed her by the hair and forced her head back, so that Pete could see the blind terror on her face and the wildness in her eyes. Ewan removed the gun from his waistband and jammed the barrel against her temple, his look one of triumph. Christian just stood, watching the interchange with a detached coldness Pete hadn't expected from a much celebrated brother. Confused, he reached for the sword that Christian held, only to have his fingers grasp air.

Maerlyn was fighting a losing battle with her emotions as memories of what Ewan had done when she was a child, of the abuse... the angry words... the nightly visits that had scarred her soul. Ewan hadn't seen the pointless grab, his eyes glued on Maerlyn as she cowered at his feet. Peter was too focused on the altar of goblets, his back to Pete as the agent straightened up and gave Maerlyn a questioning look. She had closed her eyes tightly now, fighting tears. He could see she was struggling to keep as calm as possible, see that her mind was racing. Deciding to keep the knowledge of the 'fake' Christian to himself, he reached out to distract Ewan. "No! Let her go, you've got the Grail. There's no need to kill her."

Peter snorted, "Ah, dear Maerlyn. You did try and honestly you gave it a good one, but clearly, I am still the smarter." On either end of the altar was a basin of water, fed by the springs beneath the temple, and it was into one of these that Peter dipped the Grail then raised it, dripping, in a toast like fashion. "To you Maerlyn MacGregor. May you find peace, wherever you are going to." With that he tipped his head back and drank greedily from the Grail, water seeping from the corners of his mouth and down onto his shirt. Once finished, he looked around at the small group and smiled wickedly. "And so our bond is severed, Maerlyn. I hold the entire gift, and you will soon be a distant memory."

Ewan lunged forward, throwing Maerlyn aside, his hands closing around the Grail and wrenching it from Peter's grasp. Peter released the Grail, a frown tugging at the corners of his mouth as Ewan followed his master's lead and dipped the Grail into the water and drank down the contents.

Pete's eyes were now on Maerlyn as she tried to collect herself, struggling to her feet. Maerlyn kept her eyes on Ewan as he lowered the Grail and snarled at her, his tongue grown back, "Now, little cousin, we finish what we started all those years ago!" Ewan crossed the small distance between them, an unholy fire in his eyes that made Pete sick to his stomach, "I should have known you'd betray me. Should have known you'd follow your simpering elder brother around like a sick puppy. I should have done this many years ago, when I first heard about your leaving. I should have come after you myself! Should have taught you that value of obedience!" Peter was standing next to him, watching Pete carefully while Ewan advanced on Maerlyn, "You could have been Lady MacGregor. MY Lady MacGregor. Instead you go to France and make goo-goo eyes at that... that would be hero!" Ewan was toe to toe with Maerlyn now and her heart hammered in her chest, "But now you'll learn. Now you'll see what you've been missing." He reached up and grabbed her by the hair and forced her backwards against a wall.

Ewan had brought a hand behind her neck and was about to untie her top when there came a grunt form behind them as Peter suddenly fell to his knees, his eyes rolled back and jaw slack. Ewan turned to investigate what had happened, but was greeted by fist to the face and a swift booted kick to his groin. As the large Scotsman doubled over, a blond man raised a gun of his own and brought the grip down soundly on the back of his head, making a loud crack echo through the quiet halls, followed by a thump as Ewan fell to the ground unconscious.

Maerlyn was moving quickly, her hands bound behind her back and the leash thankfully no longer in Ewan grasp. She turned to Pete and the man who had saved her removed a knife from his belt and sliced the ropes holding her. Maerlyn turned round and pointed at the Grail that Peter had drunk from, "You know that's not the real thing, right?"

Pete's eyes bugged, "What? How'd you do that?"

Maerlyn smirked and picked up one of the flashlights Peter and Ewan had brought, "I had a copy made, back in the day. I hid the original that first time that Peter got it away from me, hid it where he'd never think to look and made him think that the replica was the original." She practically ignored the newcomer and shined her light down the way that he had come, "Come on, Claud. It's safe now." She looked down at Ewan and Peter at her feet, "Well, safe ish." Pete looked surprised as Claudia, toting an ivory box, emerged from the hallway.

"Claudia!" He raced over and hugged her, almost crushing the box between them.

"Good to see you too." She said, then showed the box to Maerlyn, "I, uh, found this is a tomb that I was stashed in."

Maerlyn's eyes turned to the box, her hands reaching for it instinctively, "Be very careful with that, Claudia." The young woman watched as Maerlyn took the box and laid it on the altar, the only clear space available and ran her hands over it's smooth surface.

"So I was right?" Maerlyn nodded and glanced up as Pete moved closer to the altar and caught her eye.

Maerlyn smiled, her eyes glinting in the minimal light, "It's in this box, Pete. All I ask is that you help me." Pete removed the slip of paper she'd written earlier and raised an eyebrow at her.

"You need a drop of blood? From me?"

She sighed with relief, "Thankfully not now, with Peter unconscious. I needed a plan B, of course. You had to notice how closely he resembles you." Pete shrugged, and she chuckled, "He is related to you. I had hoped that his being your great-grandfather would be enough for this to work." Her fingers slid along the sides of the box, pressing on the words inscribed there in order as she whispered them, "Truth, Love, Peace" and the lid opened with a soft pop. Pete hedged in to stand beside Maerlyn as she slid the lid back to reveal a piece of tartan, black background with green and red with lines of purple dashed through the pattern. Maerlyn reached inside, her hand gripping the goblet around its stem and removed it from the box. "I had this box made when I made the replica. The finest ivory from Africa." She gave Claudia a look, "This was before the laws against poaching. Anyway, I hid this in the one place I knew Peter would be to afraid to go."

"His own tomb." The newcomer had finally spoken to the group, but only Maerlyn didn't react to the timbre of his voice. Pete gave the man a second look; he wore a black T-shirt and jeans with black boots. His hair was a reddish gold, cut close in a style that showed a military history and his eyes were a clear blue. He stood a good head taller than Pete, and was certainly more muscular, but there was nothing that seemed overtly threatening about the man. Maerlyn looked up at the man now, nodding as he reached for the knife from earlier and went to Peter's side. Maerlyn went with him and held the goblet, still wrapped in the tartan, when he pricked Peter's hand and blood dripped from his hand into the bowl.

"And now for my part..." Maerlyn took a deep breath and offered her hand to the stranger. Pete watched as he hesitated, for only a heartbeat, then let the razor sharp edge of the knife nick her skin. Bright red against pale cream, and a single drop slipped of the edge of her palm into the bowl of the Grail. Maerlyn looked up at Pete, "The zapper bag, please."

Pete hesitated himself, not sure if he was willing to let the Grail be 'snagged, bagged and tagged' but the stern look Maerlyn was giving him helped. She wanted this. Wanted to be... normal. He removed the bag from his waistband and tossed it to the man beside her. He caught it easily and opened it, the normal crackling of the neutralizer inside sparking as Maerlyn lifted the Grail, making sure that it dropped in right side up, removed the tartan and let gravity do it's work. The man with her closed the bag and all hell broke loose.

Peter, until now a compliant vegetable, sat up abruptly, his eyes wide in fear and horror. He turned his head slowly to look at Maerlyn and she scrambled backwards quickly on her hands to get away from him. His mouth dropped open and an unearthly scream came from his throat as the skin fled from his features, tightening around his eyes and falling from his outstretched hand. Claudia gave a disgusted gasp and Pete slipped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her into his own, turning her so that she wouldn't see how the mans seemed to do eight hundred years worth of decomposing in eight minutes. Maerlyn fought down a wave of nausea and brought her hand up to her mouth, a second defense against the persistent urge as Peter's body finally fell away into dust at her feet.

No one spoke for several seconds, all of them seemed to be recovering from the shock. Maerlyn's eyes were wide and she couldn't tear her gaze away from the pile of dust and she was desperate to swallow down her own fears. The stranger was first to speak, his deep voice echoing off the stones around them yet also soft as those whispers made by lovers in the dark. "Maery... Maery." She looked up at him and they locked eyes. Pete had a sick feeling that he was looking at something absolutely private while Claudia smiled that smile that girls get when something romantic is happening.

The stranger gave Maerlyn a very serious look, got to his feet then offered his hand. "On your feet, woman." Pete watched as Maerlyn rose, wrapping her cut hand in the tartan and then nodded slowly. The stranger smiled, then turned to Pete., offering the full bag, "Here. Take it and go." Pete took the bag, gladly, but confused.

"What about you two?"

The man gave him a blank stare, "What of us? Why should we need to do anything? We are free!" He picked up Maerlyn and spun her around, smiling. "We are free!" He set down Maerlyn and tilted her chin to look in her eyes. But Maerlyn didn't look happy.

"You are free, my love. Not I."

"What? What do you mean?"

She pointed to the dust beside them, "When my time has run out, I will be like Peter. Dead." The man's fingers tightened on her arms, he shook his head and spat, "No! Never you, my sweet one. Never you." he raised a hand and caressed her loose hair, letting the strands run through his fingers.

"I told you when you gave me this immortal life, that I would only live it with you."


	16. And the Beat Goes On

"Cough, cough, goes Claudia."

Pete had had enough, he shook his head and took a step towards the couple standing in front of him. "Wait. Maerlyn, why didn't you... disintegrate like Peter did?"

Maerlyn tore her gaze from her companion, "I've been wondering the same thing, Pete." The man she'd been talking to released her hair and his fingers found the delicate silver chain that fell beneath her neckline.

"I know why." He tugged gently on the chain and it pulled free from around her neck and he lifted it to reveal the once bright locket. It was an oval shaped contraption, with a sapphire cross embossed upon its surface. It was larger than those Pete had seen his sister wear when she was younger, but small enough to hide beneath a shirt... most definitely if it had two healthy, ample... Pete shook his head and rubbed his temples. He wouldn't think those type of thoughts about Maerlyn. No way. "The locket your mother gave you, Maery. Remember?"

Maerlyn took the locket from the man and let her finger trace the cross, something she always did when looking at it, then slid her thumbnail into the seal and opened the locket. Instead of the lock of blonde hair she expected, dust drained through her fingers and sprinkled onto the floor. Maerlyn stepped back in shock, her mouth turning down in a frown. "It must have absorbed the neutralizer, somehow." She sighed and shook out the remaining dust. "Alright then. I suppose that explains why I didn't go poof. And the false Grail is the reason why..." Her eyes widened and she slapped her palm against her forehead.

Pete chuckled and folded his arms while Claudia began laughing in earnest. She calmed herself enough to give a poor impersonation of The Grail Knight from what Maerlyn was beginning to swear was Pete's favorite movie, "The true Grail will bring life, while the false will take it."

Pete's laugh got louder and he bent over, leaning his hands on his knees, "He chose poorly." Maerlyn exhaled heavily and shook her head.. She couldn't believe she didn't think about it. The replica wouldn't have done anything... and yet, Ewan had spoken...years after Peter would have certainly cut out his tongue. "Ewan always did know how to lull someone in to a false sense of security..." She whispered, carefully moving to her cousins side and kneeling. "Were you just faking then? Peter certainly would have used someone else to make the cut, but he would have wanted proof that it was done..." Her friend pressed two fingers to his throat, and closed his eyes when he felt a pulse. "Ugh. You wouldn't... would you?" She closed her eyes and put her hand over them, "What am I saying, of course you would."

"What?" Claudia asked, eyeing the bag with the Grail. Maerlyn's friend had tossed it to Pete just before grabbing Maerlyn's shoulders when she'd been breaking down seconds ago.

Maerlyn looked up at her, brushing her hands on her pants as she stood and moved to the altar, "Peter, as vile as he was, couldn't stand the thought... Let's just say he didn't like getting his hands dirty." She gave Pete a look as he snorted, then cast a glance at her companion and continued, "He would have considered it beneath him to cut out Ewan's tongue, so he would have sent a servant."

Claudia was nodding now, following Maerlyn's train of thought, "And Ewan being the big guy that he is wouldn't have stood for it, overpowered the servant and... what? Cut out the poor sots tongue instead?"

Maerlyn nodded, "Peter would have wanted proof, and once he had the tongue I doubt he would have taken the time to see if Ewan actually had one or not." She shuddered, "That's part of what was so terrifying about him. His cunning."

"So, thinking that he'd drunk from the real Grail, he would have known that Peter wouldn't give a second thought about him re-growing his tongue." Maerlyn kept nodding, her back now completely to Ewan, leaning on the altar, her head dropped down between her shoulders.

"He's still alive, though, Maery. What do want to do with him?"

Maerlyn swallowed and nodded, "There are some cable ties in my bag," she pointed bag to the hall where Christian stood. Claudia raised her eyebrows when she saw the shimmering image of Christian in his armor.

"Whoa. Who's the knight in shining armor?"

Maerlyn grinned, "That's my brother. Christian." Her voice grew soft as she explained, "It's just a projected image. The projector's connected to the lantern wiring upstairs and gives this image to tourists. This whole set up is actually part of the museum upstairs, meant for people to see how they dressed and what not. I gave the director a description of Christian and he used it for the Grail display down here. The whole answering three questions is part of the tour, the guide asks the questions and then the tourists get to drink from their chosen Grail." she waved at the altar, "It's all for fun, but I knew that if I led you down here that Peter would follow and this room is about as far from his tomb as I could get, without leaving the place. I added the replica a few weeks ago, before I went to New York, when this portion was closed down for maintenance. That's why it's so dark down here." She glanced down at Ewan and shook her head, "We need to get him out of here." She pointed to the bag in Pete's hand, "You and Claud go ahead and leave, take the Grail back to the warehouse. Tell Artie..." She rubbed her forehead and sighed, "Tell Artie... I'm sure he'll be after me soon enough. Tell Artie I'll be back as soon as I can. I've got some business to take care of."

_(Three weeks later)_

Everything was back to normal. Artie was sitting at his desk, Pete and Claudia were messing around with some game or whatnot behind him and shouting happily when Leena brought in a tray of milk and cookies. Even Artie couldn't help but smirk as he listened to their antics.

Yes everything was back to normal

Then his computer screamed at him, an artifact was found. He pressed a few more keys, then sputtered when he saw the map. "That can't be right..."

"What is it Artie?" Claudia asked, coming to stand behind him and look at the screen. She raised her eyebrows, "An artifact? Here?"

Artie finished whatever it was he was typing in and a video feet popped up, showing the front of the warehouse.

And a tall scotsman weilding a gun, standing over a wounded Maerlyn as she lie on the ground. Artie turned up the sound as Pete caught his breath and started outside.

_Ewan growled at her, "I OWN YOU!" _

_ "Ewan MacKlarian. I'll burn in hell before I let you touch me again." her voice was soft, but strong. She'd finally found the courage she needed to stand against him, to defy him as she had all those years ago. This Boo was no longer afraid of her Randall._

Ewan's nostrils flared and his eyes grew dangerous but Maerlyn just glared at him, holding her arm where he'd winged her.

Artie, still sitting in the office, watched as Pete exited the warehouse, followed closely by Claudia. So it had come to this after all, he should have trusted that Mrs. Fredric would have gotten it right. Ewan saw Pete exit the warehouse, the corner of his mouth twitched and the world seemed to go into slow motion.

Maerlyn watched the gun slide from its focus on her and adjust for Pete's height. She was moving before Pete could think about it himself, throwing herself upwards and ramming into torso twisted and she let out a shout as the bullet connected, forcing through her lower ribcage and making her wince as she hit the ground. She heard the voices around her, the shouts from Pete and Claudia as she watched Ewan through a blackening haze. She knew what was happening, it was this very thing that had Artie calling her an artifact. This ability of hers... to bring history to life. It only happened when she was under severe emotional strain, and the images would usually shift and emerge into the current time line, but if she could bring herself to focus, she could bring back a specific image... the history she wanted... the image she wanted wouldn't take that much thought.

Pete felt a chill run down his spine as a wind, thick with dust and muck, picked up around them. The funnel seemed to emanate from Maerlyn's body as she stared at her 'cousin'. Ewan was advancing on her as she lie on the ground, blood staining the dirt around her, ignoring the storm that had begun to rage in earnest around him. Pete closed his eyes to protect them from the dust while Claudia raised a hand to shield hers.

Ewan was standing over Maerlyn now, the gun pointed at her head when the wind stopped. Pete opened his eyes and his jaw dropped. Instead of being outside the warehouse, he was in a small valley, surrounded by forest covered mountains and carpeted with unbelievably soft grass and moss. Wild flowers sprouted in colorful clumps around the valley and the air was thick with the scent of roses, lavender and fresh rain. In fact, the ground was moist as though it had been raining recently and the clouds hung low in the mountains, still dark with water. Pete tried to move, but his feet were glued to the spot, his legs disobeying even his harshly whispered command of 'move!' He looked at Claudia standing beside him and knew the young woman was having the same problem. It was like a nightmare, one where no matter how much you tried you couldn't move. The sound of horse hooves caught them by surprise and made Ewan curse. A heavily armored warhorse clad in the MacGregor colors of green and red carrying an equally imposing knight barreled his way through the valley, stopping just short of the group and lowering the spear he carried. A deep voice echoed through the helm, thickly laced with a Scottish Highland accent.

"What goes here?"

Maerlyn blinked and raised her head slightly, "My Lord MacGregor. Help me." Her voice was barely above a whisper as she finished, "Please, bràthair ."

The knight reached up and slid his face guard up to show the face of a man in his late twenties with bright blue eyes similar to Maerlyn's and a grim look on his face. "Ceann beag?" His eyes flicked around the group, calculating what his odds were should they all attack. Pete watched as the knight dismounted and took a small step forward, wary of the man who'd kept his back to him, "Piuthar, what's happened? Why are you..."

Ewan turned now, his eyes glacial and breath coming in short bursts. Liam MacGregor clenched his jaw, "Col ceathrar." His eyes danced between Ewan and Maerlyn, then he twisted his grip on his weapon and stepped back to bring the point of his spear beneath Ewan's chin, "What have you done?"

Ewan rolled his eyes, "Must you always think that I have done anything to your precious sister?"

Maerlyn coughed from her spot behind Ewan, "Because you always do."

Ewan's foot came back, hitting her in the ribs and making her gasp in agony. Liam snarled, and moving faster than Pete would have expected from someone clad in armor, curled his fingers around Ewan's windpipe.

"Kick her again and you'll wish that I never heard your name. After what she told me this morning, I should kill you where you stand."

Ewan smirked and brought up the gun in his hand and batted away the spear, "Not if I get you first." Liam set a foot behind his other for balance and grabbed the hilt of his weapon with both hands, pressing his lips together in a thin line.

"I'd like to see you try."

Ewan's smirk widened and he raised the gun, "Gladly." His finger pulled on the trigger, but the only sound he got was a click. The clip was empty. Liam didn't think, just reacted as he lunged with his spear, bringing it up in a broad arc and slapping the shaft across Ewan's hand, forcing him to drop the useless weapon and let out a yelp of pain. Ewan's face blanched and he tried to back away from the intruding Scotsman, but tripped over his feet and his back slammed against the ground.

As the two cousins brawled, Pete rushed forward and dragged Maerlyn back to where Claudia was standing, "C'mon. C'mon! Claudia, help me stop this bleeding!" Claudia was already on her knees, bundling the scarf that Maerlyn wore around her neck into a ball and pressing it against the wound.

Maerlyn let out a gasp of pain. "Ah! Easy, Claudia. Easy!" Pete hissed, turning his attention back to the fighters. Ewan swung his legs around and hit Liam at the knees, knocking the knight off his feet. Pete snarled at the unfair move and rushed headlong at Ewan, dropping his shoulder and cutting into the mans gut in a classic football tackle. Ewan went flying and soon both men were grappling in the dirt while Liam stood back, waiting for a chance to cut in. After a few thrown punches and loud grunts Ewan was sprawled on the ground and Pete was bent over, resting his hands on his knees.

Liam leveled his spear point with the hollow of Ewan's throat, his upper lip curled in a snarl and growled at his ne'r do well cousin, "Draw your weapon, Scot." Ewan glared at the knight standing over him, but did nothing. Liam pressed the tip closer, drawing blood and making Ewan twitch reflexively, "DRAW IT!" he seethed through clenched teeth. Ewan's hand slid to his side where a knife was sheathed at his hip and he undid the snap.

Liam leaned onto his spear and the tip went through Ewan's throat with a spray of blood. The skewered man gargled as fluid filled his mouth and his eyes rolled back as death shook his soul free from his body. Liam knelt next to the corpse and lowered his head. The image shimmered slightly and Pete turned back to where Claudia and now Artie were kneeling to a very pale, very still Maerlyn.

Artie was leaning over her, his back to Pete and his arms moving as Claudia stared at him in shock. Artie seemed to be moving really careful like, keeping his back to Pete and doing something to Maerlyn's abdomen.

"Artie?" The older man shook his head and said something that Pete didn't hear, but kept his back to him. "Artie!" Finally the older man acknowledged his presence and looked up at him.

"Watch."

Maerlyn's eyelids fluttered and her head shifted on the dirt, groaning. "Wha...what..." her eyes opened and she focused on Artie.

"Can't imagine my ugly mug's what you want to see."

"Artie... Artie?" For the first time since she'd met him, Artie looked bashful. Maerlyn's eyes shifted to Pete as he stood over them, then past the group to where her brother's image shimmered in the daylight. "Liam..." she exhaled, a soft smile on her lips and water collecting in her eyes. She turned back to Pete, "He... he won, right?" Pete nodded as she looked again at her brother, "He always won." Liam glanced up, even as his image shifted again and the valley, mountains, wildflowers and MacGregor laird dissipated into the South Dakota desert. Artie got to his feet and extended a hand to her, helping her to her feet. Pete could see where blood had pooled beneath her and had stained her shirt, but there was no pain in her face, no sign of anything hurting her as well.

"Maerlyn, what... you were shot!"

Artie 'humphed', "Pete, sometimes you really need to learn to pay attention." He lifted the Grail in his right hand, "All those years ago when Maerlyn drank form the Grail she was wearing her mothers locket, somehow salvaged from the dungeon, and it too absorbed some of the Grail's gift. When she neutralized it to bring here, her part was absorbed by the locket and all of the gift was transferred to her. She is now, completely immortal." He shook his head and passed the Grail to her. "Here, take this and keep it safe. I don't think it will cause much problems now with both Peter and Ewan gone."

Maelryn nodded, "Yes... I know just the place." she gripped the Grail tightly, then slipped it into a forgotten pack on the ground. "Anything else you need?"

Artie shook his head, "No. You go ahead and get going." then he walked back into the warehouse.

She turned to Pete and smiled, "Well?"

Pete just stared at her, "You're leaving?"

Maerlyn shrugged, "I think it's time, don't you?" she chuckled and ruffled Claudia's hair, "Give Artie a few years and he'll be after me again. Don't you worry." She gave Claudia a hug, then began walking to the Mustang convertible sitting just beyond their group. Pete followed her to the vehicle, opening the door for her. She threw her bag onto the back seat then gave him a serious look. "I'm not Myka, Pete."

His eyebrows shot up, "What? I didn't... I never thought that..."

She smiled, "Give her a call. I bet she won't hang up." Pete looked away, then back at her when she sat in the seat.

"You sure about that?"

She grabbed up her sunglasses from the passenger seat and winked before sliding them into place, "She basically said as much when I talked to her last week."

Pete grabbed the top of the door, "You talked to her?"

She nodded, "She looked good, Pete. Although she did have a bit of a heart attack when I introduced Richard."

Pete smirked, "I bet."

Maerlyn started up the car, "Now, if you'll excuse me, Pete. I've got a plane to catch."

Mrs Fredrick was sitting in her living room when the letter arrived, stamped with the US Customs insignia and no return address, but she knew the handwriting tightly written across the envelope. Opening the note, she found a single sheet of paper inside, written in that same tiny handwriting:

_Irene, found someone I thought you could use. He works for the ATF and has a knack for telling when someone is lying. Gets to be a bit of a pain, actually, but could come in handy when dealing with people. His names Steve Jinks. Look him up._

_ Also, thank you for the chance at being normal. Richard and I are currently vacationing in Japan, enjoying the history that we missed in our 'lifetimes'. Thank you for speaking to Artie about me... and thank you for a second chance._

_Maerlyn Plantagenet_


End file.
